To Have Loved, Lost and Won
by Mirwalker
Summary: The Station, its crew and a troubled young officer sit in the cross-hairs among the Dominion, Federation allies and a Gamma Quadrant fleet.
1. Prologue

**STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE**

**To Have Loved, Lost and Won**

by Mirwalker

_Though this story contains some original characters and situations, it is set in the _Star Trek_ universe. _Star Trek_ and all related items are copyright Paramount Pictures Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The story is written simply as a form of entertainment and homage. No profit is made and no infringement intended._

_Originally finished in "script" format on 25 May 2003; adaptation to prose format began in November 2011._

**Timeline Note: **The events in this story take place between _ST:DS9_ episodes _The Sound of Her Voice_ and _Tears of the Prophets_ at the end of Season Six.

* * *

She was struggling. Fighting fiercely and fleeing fleetly, to be sure, but struggling still.

Two phased polaron beams arced toward her secondary hull, illuminating and barely being stopped by the weak shimmer of shields between her faintly glowing nacelles.

Still running, she responded promptly with a sustained phaser sweep and two photon torpedoes.

The lead Jem'Hadar fighter burst into flames, debris spiraling away from the continuing pursuit. Undaunted by the loss of yet another swarmmate, the two remaining black and purple ships barreled forward, resuming fire on the _Excelsior_-class starship's apparent soft spot.

The give and take continued as the hunted vessel continued emitting another form of radiation, on all channels, "…Repeat: This is the Federation starship _Manchester_, en route to _Deep Space Nine_. We are under Dominion attack, and need immediate assistance…"

Behind the crewmember's urgent voice, and amid various alarm sirens, a calmer voice also shared, "Warning. Shield collapse imminent. Warning…"

As if to add futility to the desperation of the distress call, the two trailing "bugs" intensified their fire. The first few shots shattered the remaining dorsal shields, and the quick-following volleys slammed into the impulse engine housing on the rear of the primary hull.

The resulting explosion and rapid drop in veolicty by the Federation ship would have given the Dominion gunners great satisfaction, if they didn't immediately turn to the next stage in vanquishing this prey.

* * *

Inside the Starfleet ship, as the backup lighting flickered on, joining the still pulsing red alert indicators, the tall Bolian woman helped the younger human-appearing officer to his feet. "Ensign, are you OK?"

The man nodded, carefully shouldered his case and holstered his recovered phaser as the room rocked with the latest impact.

The Commander picked her way toward the wall console, tapping repeatedly as she attempted to make contact with other parts of the ship. "No response from the bridge," she narrated, knowing he looked to her for an update I the moment, just as she looked to him for hope in the larger conflict. The command deck's silence also meant the rest of the crew likely now relied on her for direction as ranking officer; but she could spare only a little time.

Tapping her own communicator, in hopes the shipwide communications system wasn't entirely offline, she instructed, "Attention all hands! This is the XO. Prepare to repel boarding parties."

Turning to the even more wide-eyed man who had re-drawn his phaser, she ordered, "Time to go, Tolesat."

Carefully slinging the satchel behind him, he helped her pry open the unresponsive doors. She glanced around the dim, smoky corridor carefully before waving him to slip through and join her.

Through the haze, three security officers jogged up, sporting grim faces and phaser rifles.

"Commander Bleths," the lead officer greeted, with a quick lookover and nod to the other man. "We're already hearing reports of Jemmies appearing on other decks. No chance we'll get to the shuttle bay from here."

"They'll overrun us in no time," she concurred, thinking quickly of options and alternative routes. "Captain's gig or escape pods it is then. Move it."

The blue-skinned and the mustard-class officers circled around the command-clad man; and Bleths led them in the direction of the lowest deck in the saucer section.

Promptly and professionally, the youngest, newest officer among them was herded through turns and straightaways, always kept at the center of the tight circle of alert eyes and ears. He, in turn, was constantly shifting the case strung over his shoulder, keep his body between it and what evidence of danger they approached and promptly avoided.

As a deck pass-through hatched was pulled shut above them, all their ears caught the quick approach of footsteps and phaser blasts as a defense line crumbled through the rooms they'd just left. With little time to celebrate missing that firefight, or worrying for those in it, the team kept moving quickly and cautiously.

Turning back from the flash of energy exchange farther down the corridor ahead, the group took a different direction into the deck's interior. Picking up their pace, they turned a corner and nearly slammed into a squad of Jem'Hadar who were working to do something undesirable to an opened wall panel.

The lead security officer managed to get off several shots instinctively, at near point blank range; and the two Jem'Hadar closest to them dropped to the deck, almost on top of them. But as the Starfleet team backpedaled in the direction they'd just come, the Dominion soldiers opened fire through the space their fallen comrades had occupied, without giving the new corpses so much as a single glance. Bleths heard Giles cry out, and something heavy hit the deck; but could only curse mentally as she pulled the ensign down a side passage, hoping the remainder of the detail would react and follow.

Ducking into a Jeffries Tube, and quietly pulling the access panel shut behind them, the four let artificial gravity do much of the work as they slid down a level on the ladder. Letting that be all the breather they could take, they followed the crawlway as far as the could, before having to risk the main hallways again to continue their descent through the saucer section.

Hearing nothing beyond the normal hum of background equipment on this desk, Bleths waved everyone into the deserted corridors. Moving briskly, and with three beings moving just as quickly behind him, crewman Luzblim was unable to stop or alter his direction in time to avoid the large, horned killer who materialized directly in his path. He was not even able to exhale a shout before being killed instantly with a quick sweep of a ketracel-emboldened arm, rifle or blade. Only his tangled, limp form kept the other materializing Jem'Hadar from laying hands or harm on the now three surviving _Manchester_ crew.

Now simply running away from a danger, rather than to a destination, the remaining security officer did not see the blast that struck him squarely in the back as a second Dominion squad joined the pursuit from another hallway. His dead weight was thrown into the final Federation duo, causing the ensign to drop both his case and phaser.

Managing to maintain a grip on her own sidearm, the Bolian rolled over and fired several shots back down the hallway, momentarily quelling the incoming blasts as the enemy took up positions at the nearest curve. Yanking the young man to his feet, she slapped a door panel, which opened to reveal a room off the corridor. As she again fired a hold-your-position message down the hall, the ensign hurriedly freed his case from under the too-still body of his colleagues, and pulled it against a darkened spot on his own burgundy tunic.

Gracefully exchanging her hand phaser for the now available pulse rifle, Bleths seized the ensign by his arm and spoke calmly but firmly to his grimaced face, "Get in there and hide, Tolesat. You must live and _win_. We're all counting on you..."

Without further instruction or another look, she pushed him through the doors. Stumbling backwards, he managed to stay upright, and saw her slap the control panel and turn back down the hallway with the rifle at her hip.

For a moment, he just clutched the precious case and his aching side, shocked that she had just shut herself out of room's relative safety. It was only the latest in a quick series of surreal moments of the day.

His reverie was interrupted by the muffled sound of weapons fire and a shout in the hallway outside, neither directed at him. "That's an order, Ensign! Around the corner and three sections over to the turbolift. I'll cover you!"

Her unhappy audience replied with a less verbal volley, nonetheless indicating they were unhappy with her making a stand against them.

He set the case down behind the little room's only freestanding console, clutched his side and tried to decide whether and how to go out and help.

Before he could complete a thought, the XO's voice rang out from the hallway again, "You'll get to him over my dead-" Her vow was punctuated by a single flight of energy and a thud against the doors.

Realizing suddenly that the career officer now lay against or across the doorway, blocking access even in death, he counted her at least the fourth colleague to sacrifice self in his defense, in just the past few minutes. And these were only those he'd witnessed even indirectly. Anger and fear roiled in him; and he reached to his holster without thinking; but it was empty. His weapon, like his guardians, lay unable to help him any longer, beyond the doors before him.

The silence outside was short-lived, as there was a banging on the doors almost immediately. The Jem'Hadar were not pausing to reflect on the scattered lives or losses, only on their goal: him.

Now alone against that merciless mission, the ensign took stock of his solo situation: His ribs, under the burned uniform, had begun to sting significantly, and the muscles there, to stiffen. His de facto cell was a small medical bay—probably intended as just a triage station for this part of the living quarters. But he had only minimal medical training; and the visitors at the door probably would not permit him time to activate and search for any treatment for what was actually his least pressing physical threat at the moment. The room's single bed and side console provided virtually no cover from the door; the two chairs were moveable, but hardly a barricade.

As the clang on the door turned quickly to strains of failing metal, and lacking any other option, he grabbed the only handy piece of technology, pulled himself to full height and nudged the shoulder case farther under the console.

A quick silence was followed by a sharp bang and an electrical crackle, and the doors slid open. Two very unhappy looking Jem'Hadar stood in the doorway with their ready weapons aimed into room.

For an instant the opposing sides took in one another, as if daring the other to act first.

Grimacing slightly, the ensign hoped they wouldn't notice as he brandished the traditional hypospray and imitated the dry affect of some of Starfleet's newest technology, "Please state the nature of your medical emergency."

The Dominion foot soldiers were momentarily confused, not expecting that un-hostile greeting from the room's occupant; and in fact glanced at one another as if confirming the other witnessed the same surprise. Not actually caring what the other saw, or how they were welcomed, the soldiers quickly returned their attention to their aim… And were quickly cut down by energy blasts from behind them.

Gasping aloud, and wondering what approaching threat could make such short work of these living weapons, the young man gripped the edge of the biobed for support, and continued to face the open doorway resolutely, where nothing moved momentarily.

Slowly, a frowning Klingon face peered around the doorframe, followed quickly by a cooling phaser and the rest of its large wielder. Seeing only the pale and startled ensign, and glancing down at the pile of bodies in the doorway, the rescuing Starfleet officer relaxed and stepped into the room, "Ensign Magenau, I am Lt Commander Worf, from _DS9_. Are you all right?

The young man dropped the hypospray and his shoulders, and could only push out a pained, "I… I…," before his eyes rolled up and closed, and he began to fall forward.

As a _Defiant_ strike team moved in behind him, Worf rushed forward and caught the unconscious man in his surprised arms.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	2. Act One

**STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE**

**To Have Loved, Lost and Won**

by Mirwalker

* * *

**ACT ONE**

Having taken over primary care for the casualties from the newly docked, and recently attacked, starship, _Deep Space Nine_'s Infirmary felt especially small this afternoon. The low hum of voices and equipment were occasionally punctuated by sharper cries by patients, medical staff or technology. And movement ranged from too-still covered forms, to frantic passing of supplies or people across the cramped space. Loud and busy, every aspect of that chaos was geared toward providing care.

Eyes closed against the overwhelming stimuli, and face hardening against what felt increasingly like fawning attention, Ensign Magenau protested again, "Doctor Bashir, really, I'm fine. Dr. Bashir, please…." He grabbed the blue-clad officer's wrist gently but firmly, to interrupt the seemingly endless fretting and fixing.

With a genuine smile, the Station's Chief Medical Officer broke his grip and continued his ministrations. "I just want to make sure that you're OK."

"You've treated my injury..."

"But, Tolesat," the good doctor persisted, "you won't let me give you anything for the pain. And I want to be sure that your side isn't your only issue." He swapped the scanner for yet another one, and began its head-to-toe sweep.

Literally turning away from the inspection, and casting an entreaty toward the watchful but un-involved Klingon across the room, Magenau pointed out again that, "Doctor, I am fine. Surely you have _others_ in greater need of your ministrations than I."

"Agreed, Doctor," added a new voice from the direction of the Promenade entrance.

Seizing the arrival as an escape opportunity, Magenau brushed past Bashir to officially greet the Station's Commanding Officer. "Captain Sisko! Ensign Yerian Magenau, reporting as ordered."

Continuing toward them as he nodded greetings and good wishes to other patients and caregivers throughout the room, Sisko smiled pleasantly at the new arrival to his command, trying not to acknowledge the young man's 'save me' tone too obviously. "Welcome to _DS9_, Ensign. I'm glad you made it one piece. How are you feeling?"

With an unpleasant glance back at the still-scanning physician, Magenau

"Much better, sir. Dr. Bashir is _very_ thorough."

Stepping around his patient, to provide his own report, Bashir provided his perspective, "Captain, he received second-degree phaser burns to his torso, not to mention some nasty miscellaneous bumps and bruises. I want to make sure that I haven't missed anything important."

Nodding a 'well-done', Sisko interceded, ostensibly on behalf of everyone except the young crew member. "If Ensign Magenau is safe from death's door for the moment, there are a number of other casualties from the _Manchester _whom you don't want to miss either, and who could benefit from your thorough attention..."

Glancing at the scanner, which did not indicate anything life-threatening, Bashir clicked it off, and consented, "You'll be fine, Ensign. Though, please don't hesitate to call if anything else comes up." Committed to helping the others in his sickbay, if a little dejected at leaving off with this specific new arrival, the doctor gathered his tools, and disappeared into other parts of the suite's healing symphony.

Smiling more openly for his staff's enthusiasm, and his visitor's benefit, Sisko explained, "You'll have to forgive Dr. Bashir's enthusiasm. He is a dedicated physician, and just wants to make sure that all our special guests are well taken care of."

Magenau's face hardened anew at being called a 'special guest;' but chose to change the subject, rather than challenge it. "How did the _Manchester _fare, Captain? No one will tell me, and I'm having trouble getting a clear sense through all this excitement…"

At the question, Sisko's face dropped to a more serious expression. **"**Honestly, Ensign, she took quite a beating; she'll be in spacedock for quite some time. But, she gave almost as well as she took: She destroyed or crippled 6 of the 8 Jem'Hadar fighters that ambushed her! And _she_ will fly again."

"And the crew?" Magenau persisted, with no lack of concern or guilt.

Leading him back to the bio-bed, and away from the buzz and ears of the busy room, Sisko redirected the conversation slightly too. "What is important for all of us to focus on right now is that the _Manchester _and her crew succeeded in their mission: to deliver you and the information you're carrying safely to us. Your work is vital to the Federation war effort, and worth some small sacrifices to safeguard."

Confused and quickly irritated again, the 'delivery' questioned him, "Small sacrifices? Carrying information? Captain, what are you talking about?"

Sisko motioned Worf to join them. Stepping forward, he held Magenau's battered shoulder case as if it were the crown jewels.

"The information you are carrying with you, in this case," The Captain reminded him. "Starfleet Command said that it was imperative that you and your work reach us. We found this case hidden near you on the _Manchester_; it's a little scuffed from the firefight, but the polyduranium casing and the bio-vocal seals are still intact. We've been waiting for you to regain consciousness so that you could open it for us."

His relief at having the case returned did not offset his displeasure with the explanation, and he made no efforts to mask that. He set the case it on the bed and, placing his palms at either end, uttered a brief phrase neither observing officer recognized. The combination of his conscious bioelectric signature and his voice speaking the codephrase unlocked it; and it chirped happily as the seals released. He reached inside, rummaged among some PADDs, a few personal items including what looked like as sculpted bottle of multicolored liquid, and ultimately pulled out two isolinear chips.

"I think you've misunderstood," he now explained. "The information is what I'm here to get _from_ you. All that I'm carrying are personal effects, my duty orders and the latest casualty reports…. Not including the _Manchester_…," he added quickly, with another flash of guilt across his face. Stretching out his arms from his sides, as if to say "yours truly," he summarized that "It would seem, sir, that your 'special guest' _is_ your valuable cargo."

A little surprised himself at the reality of the stricken ship's cargo, Sisko exchanged a look with Worf, and took the chips from the ensign.

Before anyone could question or clarify further, the Station's Constable strode in and headed directly to Sisko. "Captain, the Tashu'at Regatta is within communications range, and their Commodore is requesting to speak with you. She is quite insistent."

Other duties literally calling, Sisko acknowledged, "Thank you, Constable," with a resigned sigh. Turning back his other security specialist, he explained and directed in turn, "I'd better get back to Ops. Mr. Worf, Dax, O'Brien and Kira are inspecting the _Manchester_ and the 2 captured Jem'Hadar ships. Why don't you lend them a hand."

Gesturing toward Magenau, he asked, "In the meanwhile, Odo, will you please get the Ensign settled in his quarters? We'll gather for a senior staff meeting in one hour. Welcome again, Tolesat."

As the others moved away, Odo turned to Magenau, to escort him to his quarters as directed, only to find the young man staring at him intently. "Please follow me... Is there a problem, Ensign?"

"No, Constable," the young man blushed. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've not met a Found- I mean, Changeling before."

Somehow mixing no facial expression with clear vocal sarcasm, Odo asked, "Would you like a holo-image to capture the moment? It will last longer."

Repacking his satchel, Magenau declined.** "**It's not that, Mr. Odo. I've done a great deal of research on the Dominion and your species. I've read everything available, seen all the available technology and interviewed everyone involved; but I've never actually been face-to-face with one of your people."

Shouldering the case, and following the Constable's lead, Magenau spoke the same correction as did Odo, "I mean none that I-"

"…none you knew to be Changeling."

Amused and annoyed, respectively, at the common thought and expression, they entered the Promenade in silence. Odo gestured in the direction they should go, glancing about the large space for any sign of trouble, as was his habit.

They had gone only a few cautious steps, side-by-side, when the ensign stopped suddenly and turned to face Odo directly.** "**Strange, I knew that I wouldn't be able to sense your thoughts or emotions exactly; but you have a very definite presence, Constable."

Uncomfortable at their stopping, and the interpersonal efforts, Odo again dismissed the attention on himself. "Ensign, I'm glad that this is such an honor for you, but really…"

Even as the Gamma Quadrant native was addressing him, Magenau's attention was drawn across the sweeping corridor, into one of the shops along its edge. In some sort of dining establishment, another young man—darker, taller and thinner than himself—trying hard not to look like he was watching them. Smiling at having found this particular gawker, he interrupted the Constable's lecture.** "**Before we head off to my guest quarters, could I grab something to eat? I've not eaten since just after the _Manchester_ left Starbase…"

Unaccustomed to being interrupted by junior Starfleet officers, and uncomfortable with idea of keeping this particular one in such a busy, public place any longer than necessary, Odo made to move them along. **"**I don't think that would be the best idea; there's a replicator in your quarters."

But Magenau had already headed into the restaurant; and Odo shot a dirty look after him as he followed him dutifully.

Heading directly to a small, empty table beside his still too-obvious admirer, Magenau was a little taken aback when a finely dressed Ferengi was at his side almost immediately.

"Welcome to Quark's, Tolesat," the introduction began, at nearly a feverish pitch. And with a bow. "I am the proprietor of this fine establishment, and must say it's an honor to have you join us. You are welcome here _anytime_; and if there's anything you want or need, you just let me know."

Smiling at this first, truly honest entrée in this new assignment, Magenau responded with equal forthrightness. "I appreciate the warm welcome, Mr Quark; but I'll bet you're hoping my presence will drum up business among on-lookers. Perhaps you'll put a plaque on this table or put the utensils I use in case to be viewed for a small fee?"

His grin only widening, if possible, Quark nearly squealed, "Ooh, you think like a Ferengi too. You _are_ brilliant!"

Modeling a quick shift downtempo, Magenau corrected, "At the moment, I'm hungry. I'll have a bowl of plomeek soup, and two raktajinos, please."

Smitten with the profit possibilities of this celebrity visitor, Quark just stood there in admiration of the man and money. Coming back to the moment in order to make that income, he found the guest looking at him with expectant eyebrows: and so he nodded and hurried off to grab the meal and his calculator.

Having pushed through the slightly larger than normal crowds, the Security Chief had his mouth open to scold his care for running office, when his communicator chimed. Caught short, but with a look that he was not yet done, he tapped it and barked, "Odo here."

Major Kira Nerys' voice spoke with her trademark sternness, over some sort of commotion in the background wherever she was. **"**Constable, please report to Upper Pylon Two immediately. Your help is needed with a prisoner transfer in progress."

Rolling his eyes at yet another imposition on his orderly day, he protested, "Major, I'm in the middle…"

"We need you here _now_, Odo," his badge repeated.

Sighing with an unhappiness at it all, but unable to refuse the Major's request, he considered how to meet the multiple, competing demands on his presence. "On my way."

As he stewed, Quark approached with Magenau's order and began placing it on the table, with lots of unrequested extras—all while grinning ear to ear.

"Ensign, you'll…"

"…be fine," Magenau assured him. Nodding to the hovering profiteer, he pointed out that "Quark won't let anything happen to his star attraction; and I have everything I need here."

Odo harrumphed, either at the young man's bravado, naïveté or both, and tapped his communicator again. "Odo to Security. Two officers to Quark's for VIP escort duty immediately." Not breaking his gaze at his ward, he chided, "Sit quietly and keep your eyes open. Deputies will be here momentarily. Quark…"

"I'll take good care of him, Odo. Believe me,_ I _realize how valuable he is."

Scanning the crowd suspiciously as Quark continued to grin at his guest, Odo stalked away.

Not missing a beat at the departure, Quark reminded, "Now you let me know if there's…"

"Anything that will keep me here longer. Thank you, Quark; I will. Right now, I'd like to enjoy my meal."

Quark bowed and backed away, sizing up and planning how to lighten the purses of the clients who had begun to notice and whisper about the new and doted on arrival.

Trying not to notice the increasing attention, Magenau pulled a scanner out of his satchel and ran it over his food, as the observer beside him gaped and made furious notes on his PADD. Not seeing him do it, but knowing he was nonetheless, Magenau smiled and stage whispered over his shoulder, "Mr. Sisko, I don't believe that staring is any less rude in your culture than in mine…"

Pausing in his data entry, he then realized that hesitation only indicating he was paying attention to his fellow diner.

Before he could try not to react further, the target of his surveillance turned and invited, "Would you like to join me at my table?"

"How?…"

"Being a telepath has a few advantages, Jake," the man explained and waved him over.

Not quite wanting to admit being caught, but desperately wanting to make the connection, the young Sisko could only smile and not stumble over himself to change tables.

Already back to the much needed nourishment, Magenau consulted the tricorder and qualified his mental ability, "Chemical analysis isn't one of those advantages, unfortunately…"

"Why are you scanning your food?" Jake asked as he settled into the chair.

"The attack on the _Manchester _was the third attempt to kill or kidnap me in as many weeks," the ensign explained between spoonfuls of the Vulcan soup. "It's not paranoia if they really are after you…"

Jake continued to smile at the fact of their interaction, rather than its unsettling content.

Magenau switched gears to a warmer, more age-appropriate friendliness, and handed Jake one of the cups Quark had brought him. "This raktajino is for you; it's one of your favorites."

"How…?" he gasped, still surprised at how unplussed, and quite in control and in-the-know Magenau seemed to be.

Still smiling, the new arrival explained, "I've done my research on this entire station. The people, politics, you name it—even food favorites. And, that includes reading up on your coverage of the War. You've written some excellent pieces: military, sentient being interest, the whole gamut."

Jake blushed behind his sip of Klingon coffee. Receiving a compliment from Magenau was not something he expected or took lightly.

"Which brings me to my offer directly, since I can't talk for much longer," the complimenter continued. He glanced again at the growing bar clientele looking their way. "How would you like an exclusive interview with 'the Federation's brightest hope'?"

Jake looked at him in disbelief; and Magenau nodded that he had, in fact, heard correctly. Initially ecstatic, then skeptical, the reporter wondered, "An exclusive! But, why me?"

A resignation settled over his new contact. "I get a lot of attention, Jake—from the Dominion, the public, the press. You offer me a chance to have my story well told, and told completely, honestly."

Jake nodded, honored by and on some level appreciating the truth in the commentary on both Magenau's newsworthiness, and the wartime state of the Federation media.

More quietly, almost reverently, Magenau raised the issues of compensation. "And, in exchange, I'd like you to recount your time aboard the _USS Valiant_ for me. I'll be talking to Ensign Nog too; but we Betazoids can't read Ferengi minds, and having all the emotional flavor of the story is important."

Really not expecting that connection in this going-so-well transaction, Jake's volume jumped. "The _Valiant_? But, that can't be important to the War; and I've already written about everything that happened. What does this have to do with your mission here?"

At the mention of his mission, Magenau's demeanor shifted coldly. "My mission here is classified; and we won't be discussing it at all. Suffice it to say that the _Valiant_ is very important to my being here."

Curious now about the relevance of that doomed ship to the current situation or larger state of things, Jake also realized that Magenau was growing tense, and that the population in the bar had swelled quickly while they spoke. As they both sized up the obviously-attentive audience, a Bajoran man broke from the watching crowd, and approached their table directly.

Looking around for the suddenly absent Ferengi, Magenau deftly tapped his communicator with two fingers, "Security, where's that escort detail for Quark's?"

"Aren't you Magenau –the Tolesat Golav?" the Bajoran asked eagerly.

Standing, shouldering his precious case and looking around urgently, but not frantically, the ensign demurred, "I'm sorry; I really have to go. If you'll excuse me…" He took a step toward the nearest exit, looking both sad and a little frightened.

The Bajoran called out above the growing bustle, pointing, "It is him! It's the Tolesat!"

The hopeful crowd rushed in, trying to touch him, faces pleading and adoring.

"Save us!"

"Destroy the Dominion."

"End the war!"

"What will they do next?"

The floodgates now open, the crowd pushed a newly startled Jake to the side, and began to crush and overwhelm Magenau and one another. Quark skirted the edge of the mob, trying to settle things down without running off any potential paying customers.

Finally, station security officers appeared, pushed their way to the ensign, and extracted him from the throng, who tried to follow them out into the Promenade.

Trapped across the crowd, Jake stood up on a chair to get a better view, as Magenau was whisked away. He managed to catch his eye across the crowd, and to nod, say and think the offer accepted. "Deal."

Magenau smiled as his escort disappeared with him down the corridor; and Jake grinned triumphantly as he returned to his note-taking and question-composing.

In the midst of the crowd, Quark was gleefully gathering the items from Magenau's table, clutching and sizing them up as if they were made gold-pressed latinum.

* * *

As the varied Federation, Klingon and Romulan ships hung in the space around the Station, its senior officers were taking stock of their day in the ward room.

"…'Busy' doesn't begin to describe it," corrected Kira. "The nearest Dominion attack since the Federation returned to _DS9_, an armada of unhappy Gamma Quadrant aliens heading this way, and a near riot on the Promenade—and the day's not over yet!"

"So, Major," redirected their Commanding Officer, "instead of just cataloging our troubles, let's see what we can do about them…Chief, what's the status on the _Manchester_ and the captured Jem'Hadar fighters?"

A weary-looking Miles O'Brien reported, "Dax and I are almost finished with our once-overs of the Jemmie ships, preparing them for towing. The _Kennesaw _will take them off for further research; someone will be along for the _Manchester _soon too."

** "**The sooner, the better, I think," concluded Sisko. "Mr. Worf, that the Dominion dared this close to the Station for a try at Ensign Magenau makes me guess they'll keep trying to get at him. Let's make sure we're ready in case they do…"

The Klingon bristled with anticipation and pride. "Sensors have already indicated higher-than-normal levels of activity along the border; we have increased the alert for patrols there.

"I also will work with the Constable to prepare Station security. Since the _Manchester_ attack was also the first report of Vorta beaming over as part of boarding parties, getting to the Ensign is obviously worth a high cost to them. Any attempt to reach us will be significant. We will be ready."

Sisko nodded. "Also knocking at our door in the meanwhile is that Tashu'at fleet on its way in. To catch everyone up: this Regatta was caught in the Alpha Quadrant when the War broke out. They've been trying to return through the wormhole ever since. They obviously couldn't while we had it mined, and since then have been repeatedly refused permission by Starfleet Command and the Federation Council—who are afraid they'll report in to the Dominion when they return. Their Commodore is bringing them here now that the wormhole is re-opened in the hope of our permission to travel home."

Kira scoffed, "Captain, as I understand it, the Tashu'at have a non-aggression pact with the Dominion. There would be nothing stopping them from reporting what they've seen when they returned."

"And that would be a lot," reminded their Trill science officer. "They've been all over this part of the Quadrant petitioning to return; if they're gathering intelligence on us, it would be extensive."

Sisko sat back in his chair, and summarized the expected next steps for this newest variable in the crowded world. "Their Commodore has assured the Council that they will not disclose anything to the Dominion, but the possibility has been deemed too risky. When we spoke earlier today, she insisted upon coming aboard to meet with me personally, to make her case directly. I don't know what she expects me to do; but she made it very clear that her Regatta intends to return to the Gamma Quadrant.

"So, Major, while I handle the diplomatic end of this, I'd like you to assess what they're capable of and likely to do, in case we can't work something out. And, _everyone_ keep your eyes open. We already have enough going on here, not to have more trouble in our front yard too."

Kira and colleagues nodded.

"And finally, our special visitor," Sisko moved toward a conclusion, "whom Odo has rescued safely from the Promenade… I'll pass around his expanded service record for you all to take a look at. For someone just five weeks out of the Academy, I'd have to say it's pretty impressive."

Operations Chief O'Brien read from the PADD, "'Full Betazoid; accelerated graduate; specialist in collective and xeno-psychologies; interned with the Borg Task Force; he predicted the Dominion invasion of the Benzar and Betazed systems…'"

Enthusiastically and obviously from memory, as he hadn't seen the PADD yet, Bashir added, "He has a knack for understanding the Founder-Vorta thinking, and now Starfleet Intelligence has him working to anticipate and counter Dominion and Cardassian moves!"

Dax chuckled silently at the gushing praise, and caught her old friend's silent sigh as he moved to temper the doctor's excitement, "He's come here to interview our crew. We have the most extensive Federation contact with both groups; and he's looking to supplement intelligence files and our reports with some first-hand interaction."

She pointed out, "With Julian and the Quark's crowd, he seems to have quite the fan club; he should get plenty of interaction."

Bashir defended his interest, "I simply respect his keen powers of perception and analysis; _others_ worship him as the 'tolesat golav.'"

"The 'Shining Hope,' huh?" questioned the veteran O'Brien.

Dax corrected, "I think the more accurate translation from the Betazoid is '_Brightest_ Hope.' He has done some pretty incredible things."

Her Bajoran realist colleague concurred, "Against our recent losses, his insights are pretty miraculous; and a lot is riding on his work to understand and predict Dominion-Cardassian thinking."

The senior officer at the table, ultimately accountable for the temporary addition to his staff, reminded them, "He has a sharp mind, and is an invaluable asset to our War effort. But he's also a fresh young ensign; and now he's our responsibility. I'm sure you will all give him your full cooperation, and will pay an extra mind to his safety while he's here."

As if on cue, Odo ushered in Ensign Magenau, now dressed in Bajoran civilian clothes. Despite the apparent camouflage, he nonetheless sported a Bajoran communicator along with his Federation shoulder case.

Sisko seamlessly integrated them into the meeting, "Mr Magenau, you're well, I presume?"

Still a little embarrassed at the recent shopping sector scene, and grateful for being out of it, the young man nodded, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Your staff were just in time. Again."

Odo stood beside him and explained, "I suggested the civilian clothes in the hopes there won't be another 'incident.'"

"Excellent. Have a seat then."

As Odo and Magenau took the empty chairs, all the gathered officers glanced furtively at the fabled, if less-remarkable-in-person Magenau.

Sisko continued, "Ensign, Odo will also be assigning two security escorts to be with you at all times while you're on the Station—as some protection both from possible Dominion threat, and from your… admirers."

Both Odo and Magenau bristled at the latter comment; while some of the others stifled smiles.

"And, I was just briefing the senior officers on your mission here…"

Happy to shift the focus from himself to their task, Magenau explained, "Thank you, sir. While I have been privy to all your reports and logs, it is important for me to supplement those facts with a direct sense of the people and places in them. Information and emotions from the primary source are always best.

"I'd like to begin with a full tour of the Station—particularly the most recently Dominion/Cardassian occupied space. The age and activity level of the structure should hold some useful telepathic remnants.

"After that, I'd like to start the interviews with the crew." He passed a PADD to the Captain. "I've prepared a list of individuals I'd like to speak with. The Constable and I have agreed that this room would be an acceptably comfortable and secure location.

"And, finally, I'll also need access to a secure holodeck for some computer modeling work."

"Very well," agreed the Captain, passing the interview list to the Major. "We'll get started on scheduling the interviews, and the holosuite. In the meanwhile, I believe Doctor Bashir would be available for that station tour…"

The doctor lit up, as others stifled smiles; and Magenau reacted quickly, looking only at the leader and speaking matter-of-factly. "Actually, sir, right now I could use a little sleep after …everything."

Sisko could see that the request was more than an avoidance of the flattering physician; Magenau was worn down well beyond the events of the day. He was young and energetic, but overwhelmed. And they needed him at his best. "I'll show you back to your quarters while the Doctor and Odo plan and secure your tour route. Everyone else has work to do; let's get to it," he dismissed.

As the leadership team filed out to resume the busy day, Bashir paused in the doorway and addressed Magenau with a calmer, but still excited, sincerity, "It _is_ good to finally meet you…"

Dax stepped between them, catching the doctor's arm as she passed, smiling her own sincere "Welcome to _DS9_, Ensign," and continuing on with Bashir in tow.

Sisko pointed Magenau in the opposite direction; and two security officers fell in behind them.

As they wound through the corridors, Sisko wanted to move beyond the dry dossiers and adoration which preceded this newly minted colleague. While aboard, the Betazoid would be a member of his crew, regardless of his credentials and charge; and a good commander knew his people. Unlike most of the other personnel in Sisko's chain of command, however, this one came with a fan club that was likely to cause more headache than help, for everyone. Best to wade into it all sooner rather than later… "I again have to apologize for the Doctor; however, I'm sure you know that he's just saying what everyone else…"

"…is thinking. Yes, everyone's thoughts and feelings about me are _all_ very clear," stated Magenau, with clear umbrage at that fact.

"I guess you would know that better than anyone. Still, I hope you understand that your presence here is a much-needed morale booster for us all." _We need you; and your training and telepathic insights mean none of that anticipation should surprise you_, Sisko didn't say.

"I understand that the last few weeks have been particularly harsh on everyone here; but making people feel better is not my job," Magenau clarified sourly, as they stepped through the rolling door into the living section. "I'm here to formulate recommendations that will bring an end to the conflict, stop the killing and allow us all to get on with our lives. Perhaps _then_ we'll feel better."

Sensing that 'cause' might not be the best topic for bonding, Sisko switched to 'country.' "'Magenau.' That's a surname from the Southern Continents, isn't it?"

Caught off-guard by the off-topic and on-point insights, Magenau softened and almost smiled. "Yes, actually. I didn't realize you were that familiar with Betazed."

"I actually was assigned there briefly…"

"…on Admiral Yhas' staff, of course. I had forgotten his investigation included some time in the capital." It seemed they had both done their homework.

Sisko pursued the connection he'd finally made. "And your family lives there now, correct?"

The younger man's step faltered ever so slightly; his forthrightness did not. "They did. I believe that my parents were killed in the Dominion invasion."

_Connection shattered!_ Rolling his eyes at himself for the misstep, the single parent could only follow the course he'd started them on. "As part of the resistance?"

"No," Magenau answered dutifully. Junior officers and Betazoids were all about honesty. "An intelligence report suggests they may have been part of a group executed in a global broadcast. The Dominion apparently has killed a number of Starfleet families publicly, as an example of how helpless the Federation is to save the planet."

_ Bad to worse; at least Julian was positive in his persistence! _He needed to salvage the interaction quickly, as they were approaching their destination. "I'm sorry. I've also lost family to… Anyway, I obviously didn't do enough homework on the Tolesa—" The ensign curtly turned and cut off his superior with a forced civility, suggesting more than their walk was over. "Captain, you were right about my name: 'Magenau' is southern continental. And in our naming tradition,(1) 'Yerian' was for my maternal grandfather. My friends and family called me 'Mags'; and my colleagues, 'Ensign' or 'Mister.' I have a lot of names, and they suit me. But the 'tolesat' label and its feel-good, messianic responsibility I neither asked nor care for. I had hoped you might understand that, 'Emissary.'" Before the embarrassed Emissary could respond, Magenau definitively ended the evening. "Thank you for the escort, the rescues and the hospitality, Captain. Good night." He entered his room; and the door shut behind him, leaving his host alone in the hallway with the two professionally uninterested guards.

Clenching his eyes and fists for the poor ending he invited, Sisko added this exchange to a list of things he would wish away if he could. Lacking that power through any of his titles, he took a deep breath, and vowed to make better through Magenau's time at _DS9_, starting first thing in the morning.

* * *

Inside the guest quarters, Magenau instinctively pulled the tricorder from his pocket, and scanned the space. Assured the only negative influence present was the irritation he'd brought in with him, he let out a long sigh and unzipped the borrowed tunic.

Unlocking his valuables case, he set several work PADDs on the desk, before moving to the bed nearby. Much more carefully, he removed a sturdy sculpture containing a mix of liquid and bubbles and placed it reverently on the sidetable. Gently stroking a small, gold and red pin he pulled from his pocket, he eventually lay back and closed his eyes. Lights and clothes on—ready to move quickly if needed, and this nightly ritual done, Yerian hoped sleep would bring an end to this latest in difficult days.

* * *

**NOTES**

1. Explained by Troi in naming her sudden son in ST:TNG 1.27, _The Child_.


	3. Act Two

**STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE**

**To Have Loved, Lost and Won**

by Mirwalker

* * *

**ACT TWO**

As he had for more than an hour, across nearly every deck, ring and pylon of the station, Julian Bashir narrated the visiting ensign's steps right up to where they had begun. "And that's the Habitat Ring really; we're back to the Wardoom, and it starts over again..."

"Thank you for the tour, Doctor," Magenau immediately jumped into his breathing pause. As excited as the physician seemed to be giving the tour, the Betazoid was clearly just as interested in wrapping it up. "It gave me some very useful insights, and confirmed a few impressions I had."

"It's been my pleasure, Tole—I mean, Ensign."

Standing across the threshold, Magenau pointed back into the room. "And while I do appreciate the time you've given me, I do have to go now. My first interview is scheduled to begin in a few minutes…" "Oh, I know," agreed Bashir. "I actually took the liberty of trading appointment times with Chief O'Brien, as he had some last minute work to do on the _Manchester_; and, after getting in my patient rounds early, I had the morning free."

Looking at the PADD in hopes it would indicate something different, Magenau's faced dropped quickly before he could recover toward something positive. "So you did. Well, let's see how quickly we can get this over- get you back to your busy day..."

Breathing in deeply as he turned, he led the still beaming data source into their next chunk of time together. Perhaps appreciating a little quiet, the two security officers shot a look at one another, and took up their positions on either side of the door.

* * *

Several sections over and decks up, Admiral Ross kept his seat across the desk, as Captain Sisko stood abruptly and paced to his office's window. The two officers had long since fallen into a pattern of speaking openly despite their difference in rank. For that rare, honest space, as well as the similar attitudes toward the war overall, both men were very grateful. That frankness and appreciation did not, however, mean they always agreed or even agreed calmly.

"Ben, I'm as frustrated by all this as you are. The _Latting_ this morning was the fourth ship we've lost this week."

Sisko didn't turn, but did grit his teeth as he vented, "And we didn't gain a damn thing for the losses except casualty reports!"

"And especially with these losses, Starfleet Command is even less interested in more aggressive and more risky actions," the ranking officer reminded.

Anger giving way to sheer frustration, Sisko turned and asked, not entirely rhetorically, "So we just sit back and let them pick us off ship by ship, officer by officer? You don't have to be a Klingon to be unhappy with that strategy. What _is_ Command thinking? What happens when it's not a supply convoy? When it's another planet? When it's Vulcan? Or Earth?"

Ross pointed to the computer files they'd discussed earlier in their meeting, "That's why Ensign Magenau's work is so important. Attacks on individual ships are the realm of intelligence officers, not strategic analysts; he's looking at the same bigger picture and longer term you are. And he's already provided us some promising insights…"

Sighing and retaking his seat, Sisko wished Ross' words to be true. "Well I'm hoping he has some good suggestions, too. We're in need of some bold action, not just brilliant analysis. And speaking of action," he picked up yet another report from the cluttered desk, "the Tashu'at Regatta is going to get here soon, and their Commodore seems to think that, as the Emissary, I'll have some good news for them about their returning through the wormhole. As if we don't have enough going on out here already…!"

"They've been denied permission at every level of Federation government; but their Commodore is quite persistent. I hope that your role here as a Starfleet officer is clear…"

With no time or patience for such doubts, Sisko was quick to give his own reminder. "Admiral, questions or conflicts concerning the Bajoran Prophets are one thing. Letting a potential Dominion intelligence source back into the Gamma Quadrant with my blessings is quite another. She has the right to petition under Bajoran law; I will hear her case, uphold the Council's decision, and advise that they return to a safer distance from the front. I just hope she'll listen…"

Having heard said aloud what he knew would be the case, Ross smiled, "If there's anyone who can make her listen, Ben, it's you…"

* * *

The Wardroom table was also now covered in digital tablets; and Magenau and Bashir faced one another over one cluttered end. The scattered PADDS, various drinking cups and intense faces showed they'd been huddled there for some time.

The younger face, however, showed none of the signs of fatigue his elder's did. "You're sure that's the last contact that you've had with any Dominion or Cardassian personnel?"

Taking in a deep, weary breath, Bashir nodded emphatically, desperate to ensure that this would bring an end to the interrogation. "Yes, quite. I think that we've covered that conclusively…"

The Betazoid crossed his hands in his lap and leaned forward to confide, "I pride myself on being very thorough, so as not to miss anything important. I'm sure _you_ can understand."

Blinking his acknowledgement of the reciprocal irony, Bashir also took the opportunity to end the interview. "Of course. And speaking of my work, I really need to get back to the Infirmary; I have a number of patients to check up on."

Standing quickly and sticking out his hand to show he too felt their time together was now through, Magenau threatened an encore with a large grin. "Thank you again, Doctor, for the tour and the chat. If I think of anything else I need, I'll be certain to let you know."

Smiling nervously, Bashir made his exit quickly, lest the escape be rescinded.

Magenau stretched with a satisfied soreness, and reached for his cup. Finding it empty, he realized he was also hungry, and that his schedule provided an opportunity for more than nutritional sustenance. Tapping his communicator, he tried for a more spontaneous conversation, "Magenau to Jake Sisko."

There was almost no delay in the energetic response, "This is Jake!"

Pleased at the expected eagerness, Magenau invited, "I have a meal break before my next interview and wondered if we might start on ours over lunch? Can you join me in the Wardoom? I'll have a raktajino waiting…'

With motion almost audible over the comm channel, Jake confirmed he was "On my way…"

* * *

With emptied dishes added to the busy tabletop, the occupants of its end sat closer together as Magenau stared blankly into the mid-distance, and the younger Sisko brought his story to a close. "…Nog and I got Chief Collins into an escape pod, and ejected; we were lucky. Anyway, the _Defiant _caught our distress call, and picked us up a day later, just like my story said." Realizing his audience of one was no longer fully present, he asked, "Yerian? Yerian, are you all right?"

Snapped back to the present by the topic shift and the concern, Magenau blinked and fumbled to re-engage. "Hmm? Yes. I'm… Sorry. You are a compelling storyteller, and your memories of the experience are very vivid… Thank you for sharing them with me, Jake. It must be difficult to re-live …" He stood quickly, grabbed plates off the table and moved to the replicator.

Clear that his fast action was less to tidy the room and more to hide the emotion that had begun to cascade across his face, Jake held the questions he had about this reaction, but pressed on the interest in the Academy training ship. "No problem, really. Though, I'm still curious, why is this is so important to you? It's got nothing to do with Dominion tactics…"

Having apparently re-composed himself, Maegnau turned back to the table, and began sorting through the stacks of files. His voice showed only professional detachment; and his answer avoided the question, mostly. "Are you presuming my interest in Dominion tactics or do you know something you're not letting on?"

"Like any good journalist, I've done some background research—just like you did on all of us," explained the writer. "There's not much available on you officially, but lots of reputation precedes you. It just makes sense that you'd be here to do research on Dominion-Cardassian stuff for the war effort. No information, just deduction and hunches."

Magenau gave no reaction to the investigative analysis or the larger hanging question.

"So, am I right?"

The ensign paused in his stacking, and looked Jake directly in the eyes. "You're very smart Jake, good instincts. But we're not discussing my mission here. You've kept your end of the deal by sharing Red Squad's story, and I'll keep mine." He moved toward the door just as its chime rang, making it clear that his guest should follow. "Right now, though, I have another interview scheduled. So you go finalize your interview questions; and I'll contact you as soon as I can."

As he waited for Jake to join him, Magenau acknowledged the now-familiar sentries, and confirmed that the waiting Vulcan was "Lt Sobul?" Receiving an affirming nod, he turned to take his formal leave of his soon-to-be-interviewer.

"How long?" asked Jake first, anxious to continue.

"I'm booked solid into tonight and through tomorrow afternoon. How about I contact you when that set is done?"

"I'll be in my quarters tomorrow afternoon, whenever you're ready."

"Until then," Magenau smiled. "And thanks again for lunch…"

As a grinning report nearly danced down the corridor, Magenau adjusted his expression and greeting to match his next interview. "Magenau dweemish. Kisadla."(1)

* * *

Despite the length of their ongoing conversation, the Commanding Office of _Deep Space Nine_ had not decided on which of his visitor's three eyes to focus when addressing her. There had been no protocol guidance about Tashu'at vision physiology in the briefing summaries forwarded from Starfleet Command, and Jadzia Dax had simply shrugged in the background when she caught his glancing request for some guidance during introductions.

That each seemed to move constantly, as well as independently of the others did not help, as looking at one or even two, inevitably left at least one other unattended. And beyond the awkwardness he was feeling about giving appropriate eye contact, he couldn't help but wonder whether this literal, encompassing watchfulness was a factor in his government's and admiralty's concern about what these people might have seen during their time in Federation space.

But wherever he was looking, he needed to focus on accurately, if gently, delivering the message none of her eyes or other senses were likely to like. "…And, I'm afraid I'm forced to agree, Commodore. Even if we could allow you to return, we have no way of knowing how the Dominion forces on this side of the wormhole will react to your attempt to return to the Gamma Quadrant, and no guarantee of your safety from Dominion forces which surely are waiting at the other end."

All three eyes blinked—or more accurately, seemed to rotate fully—at the same time.

As that synchronization didn't happen every time one eye blinked, Sisko hadn't determined whether this simultaneous movement was their baseline behavior, or a reaction to her probable displeasure.

She clarified her thinking at least, "Benjamin Sisko, over the past months I have heard these same arguments from countless ministers and officials in numerous hearings, conferences and communiqués. And to be blunt, I am tired of hearing how concerned the Federation is for our safety."

_Triple blink again; it must be a sign of frustration…_

"I do not ask you to be concerned for us; and I do not expect your protection. _I_ am responsible for my ships and people; and I am comfortable that we are in no danger from the Dominion in either Quadrant."

He laced his fingers together on the desktop, trying to occupy them rather than show his discomfort with how the exchange was going. "But your non-aggression pact with the Dominion was arranged before the War, and they may use the War as an excuse to… alter it. Unfortunately, Commodore, this War will have its effects on your people whether you're involved in it or not. At this point, that's unavoidable."

Certainly to emphasize her points, all three eyes focused on him, for the first time. "I am aware of the reality of the War, and its threat to us. I assure you, Benjamin Sisko, that we are quite capable of taking care of ourselves. Besides, we both know that this is more about the Federation's concerns for itself than for my small Regatta.

"As I have said time and time again, I am authorized and willing to enter into an agreement with your government as well. Not having aligned with either side in this war, we Tashu'at will be a neutral party, un-invested and uninterested in assisting either side. Just as we've not provided you with any information on the Dominion—another likely reason for our treatment at your hands, I would guess—we will not provide them information on you. It is an honest assurance and reasonable proposal, Benjamin Sisko."

Nodding, he answered honestly, if still diplomatically. "It is a generous offer, Commodore, and you have brought forward some points I had not considered. As required under Bajoran tradition, I will take your case under advisement, and get back to you as soon as possible?"

The Tashu'at Commodore stood without any further niceties, as two eyes returned to looking around the room. "I appreciate your hearing my petition Captain." She glanced over her shoulder as she passed out of his office, "I do hope that you have _listened_ as well."

Having followed her quickly, Sisko could only smile blandly as two Bajoran crew escorted her to the turbolift, and back to her shuttle. Turning to his command staff, he found Kira and Dax keen for some good news beyond the body language that seemed too clear.

The Trill spoke her observation aloud, "You don't look so determined coming out of that appointment, Benjamin."

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, admitting, "I'm not, though that doesn't really change the answer she's going to get from me. She is one of the most persistent and persuasive beings I have ever met; I feel like I was just interrogated. I'd hate to go against her in a debate arena…"

The Major handed him a PADD to document her report, "Well, let's hope this doesn't come to a physical fight with her Regatta either. Our passive scans aren't able to tell us much about their ships, except massive energy readings of various types. Whatever they're capable of, they're capable of a lot of it."

"And without getting someone on one of their ships, we won't know for sure?"

Kira confirmed, "Not without active scans—and there's no way to hide that."

And their Science Officer added, "And with these shield readings, there's no guarantee that the scans would be able to tell us anything anyway."

Heading up to his office, he called back to them, "Well, let me report all this to Command; and then I'm calling it an early afternoon. In the meanwhile, keep your eyes and ears open for any opportunity to learn a little more."

Stepping out from her workstation, Dax took a leave of her own. "Major, you want to take over here? I'm due for my interview with Ensign Magenau."

Tapping a few keys to transfer data to Dax's location, Kira grinned mischievously, "Well, hope you're rested up; Julian says he's exhaustive. I guess idol worship is more strenuous than he expected."

* * *

Jake Sisto could smell the Cajun spices before he even entered the quarters he shared with his father. The spread of ingredients, utensils and pots made it clear that a home cooking feast was beginning; and that usually meant only one thing…

"Hi, Dad!"

"Hey, Jake," Benjamin said, happily if wearily. "How's your day?"

"Better than yours apparently," the son said, with a slap to his father's shoulder, and quick taste of a bubbling sauce. "You don't cook like this—in mid-afternoon—for no reason." Grabbing a slice of vegetable, he headed to the couch, took a PADD out of his bag and began reviewing interview notes.

"Let's just say that it's been one of those days." Slicing up proteins certainly worked out a little stress; but it was the creative process of making family recipes that really brought the comfort. "…But nothing that a heaping plate of grandpa's secret recipe jambalaya won't fix. Hope you're hungry…"

Grinning back at the chef, Jake suggested, "You should get stressed out more often!"

"Don't you wish! What are you working on so diligently?" Laying back and kicking his feet out to show his high life, Jake shared his pending feat, "I have been granted exclusive interview rights with the Tolesat Golav. And, I've got so much to ask…"

Knowing the look his father—the ranking Starfleet officer on the Station—would be shooting at him now, he qualified the enthusiasm with, "I know I'm balancing the public's right to know with Federation security."

Pleased he didn't have to say it himself, Captain dad approved, "I should hope so. I'll remind the ensign about those responsibilities during our interview this evening. That way, we can be sure that Federation security is covered from both sides."

The mutual understanding hung between them like the fragrant cooking spices, until Jake decided to supplement his research. "Hey, Dad, as background for my interview, what can _you_ tell me about Yerian?"

"'Yerian'? Since we are you on a first name basis with our guest?"

"Since we met, and started talking at Quark's the other day."

The cook laughed aloud, "I should have known… wherever there's trouble, 'Scoop' Sisko will not be far behind."(2)

The curious young man shrugged and offered a plausible and honest explanation for the coincidence. "I was having a late lunch; and he sought me out. You're avoiding the question… What can you tell me?"

"Jake, first, if you're talking over meals, you obviously know him better than I do. Second, you can check the public sections of his personnel records as well as I can. And third, I'm no more able to discuss anything beyond that than he is." Still stirring, he looked up from his roux with a familiar pride in his fast-growing son. "But, security clearances aside, I'm glad to see that you're striking up a friendship. Goodness knows he could use a little social distraction from all that's expected of him…"

Jake nodded, as the offered info fit with he already knew or suspected. "He has mentioned the stress—Did you know that scans all his food before he eats it? And another odd thing," he turned to look at his dad over the sofa back. "He's really interested in the _Valiant_ and its story; I can't figure out why…" "Jake, Ensign Magenau was in the same Academy class as the Red Squad leaders; he probably lost some close friends on that ship."

Jumping and gathering his things, Jake headed for the door. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that!"

"Glad I could help…," Sisko chuckled after him. "Be home for dinner!"

Before the doors could close completely, Jake stuck his head back in, still excited, but with an added air of conspiracy. "Dad, why don't we invite Yerian over for dinner tonight? You're making enough for an army, and he could probably use a change from his inspected replicator fare."

Stopping in his prep, the senior Sisko looked up at his son. "I think that would be a _great_ idea."

"Excellent. Can you make the arrangements?" Jake asked as he turned to leave again.

"Me?!," his father called after him. "What's so important right now that you can't invite your own friend?"

"Research," he explained as he paused and then pleaded. "Come on, dad!"

"All right, I'll invite him. Just make sure your research gets you back here in time…"

Their work laid out for them, both Sisko turned back to their favorite tasks with a smile and great expectations for what was to come.

* * *

Magenau placed the cups on the Wardoom table, and took his place at it. "Here's your coffee, sir; with the… chicory you requested. And, thank you again for dinner, Captain. I have never had… jumbo…"

"Jambalaya," the senior officer corrected. "You're thinking of gumbo."

"Yes, of course. It's been a while since I had a home cooked meal of any kind." His face darkened briefly. "My fiancée liked to cook, but Cajun wasn't…" Seeing Sisko looking at him intently, trying to show only the slightest interest in the unexpected personal sharing, Magenau reverted quickly to business. "Let's get started, shall we?" He reached for the correct file as his interview subject settled in.

"OK. What do you need me to do?"

As he'd done with innumerable beings over the past months, Magenau explained with a friendly, but well-practiced script. "I'm going to ask you to recount your experience with Dominion and Cardassian peoples, following an abridged timeline drawn from your own and Station reports. Beyond just re-telling the factual stories, I'd like you to put yourself back in those moments to recall any general impressions and feelings you have about the experience as a whole."

"The whole truth, huh?" asked the older man with an intrigued eyebrow.

Still matter-of-factly, as he called up the information he was looking for, "More than that actually. In addition to recording the interview, I also would like your permission to witness your thoughts and emotions as you recall the specific experiences—so I can telepathically share them with you in a real sense."

Definitely more uncomfortable than when he thought he was just being asked to remember details from years past, Sisko's raised eyebrow was now skeptical. "Like a mind-meld? Is that really necessary?"

Also familiar with this reaction, the Betazoid stopped and faced him, using the focused attention to indicate his understanding of the ill ease. "No; melds are active intrusions. I won't probe or push, just passively monitor your thoughts and feelings without affecting or influencing them at all. As with every other interview, I'm hoping for any extra information, beyond the narrative and analysis of your previous reports. That's why I came here in the first place." He tried to read the Captain's poker face; unable to, he tried a little poke to the pride. "If it bothers you…"

"No," Sisko dismissed the concern nonchalantly. "I just wasn't really expecting…"

Shifting to his most non-rehearsed presentation style, the analyst provided yet another well-prepared assurance. "It's OK, Captain. Many people are uncomfortable with the idea, and even more so with the experience itself; it may feel somewhat like a long daydream or déjà vu to you. Just let me know if at any point you don't wish to continue."

They sized one another up for a moment. Sisko knew he should trust this fellow officer doing his duty; Magenau hoped he would. Both their successes might depend on it.

"All right," the Captain consented, settling into his chair a little more. "How do we begin?"

Magenau handed him the PADD he cued up. "Here are some excerpts from your reports to date. I'd like you to tell me these stories again, opening yourself up to the entire memory. I'll just be sitting here, remembering along with you."

Recognizing the reports he authored nearly two years previous, Sisko glanced up to see the ensign tap the recorder on and relax into his own chair with his eyes closed. With a slight throat clearing, he recounted, "OK. Stardate 49906.3, my first face-to-face interaction with Weyoun.(3) We had to temporarily collaborate to destroy an Iconian gateway…"

* * *

While it wasn't easy, delivering the news by commlink rather than in person was almost certainly easier. Pleasantries over, he cut to the chase, "…I'm sorry, Commodore."

On the viewscreen, the Tashu'at Commodore exhaled deeply, trained all three eyes on him and cut him off, remaining polite but clearly showing her dissatisfaction and frustration. "No, Benjamin Sisko; that is not acceptable. We have tried your Federation's process and procedures in good faith, and we have gotten nowhere. From your reputation as an officer and your unique perspective on the wormhole as the Prophets' Emissary, I had hoped that _you_ would be more understanding and agreeable; I now see that you are not."

"Commodore, you have to understand-," he tried to soothe. "I do, Captain," she interrupted again. "All too well. Therefore, having been unable to persuade you to allow us passage home through your slow and unresponsive method, I am forced to try another. You leave me no choice but to contact the Dominion command in this Quadrant and request their intervention on our behalf. Perhaps they will listen where you have not."

_From not easy, to bad._ "Commodore, that is not necessary. Involving the Dominion will only-"

"...make you pay attention and take our requests seriously," she finished a third time.

"Commodore, for all our sakes, I ask you not to make matters worse." Sisko took a breath, and lowered his hands, which had begun rising as if to hold off her threats physically. "Let me contact some people at Starfleet Command directly; there has to be something we can work out without inviting bloodshed. Please?"

Two of her eyes looked away from the screen, whether at someone or something beyond his view, or just in an indication of thought. Taking a breath of her own, she finally spoke calmly but firmly. "Our needs are simple, clear and unchanging. Since we approach the time for meals for both our peoples, you have two of your hours to 'work out' an acceptable answer. At that time, my Regatta either makes preparations to return home, or we 'work out' something with the Dominion."

The screen went blank; and Sisko's expression finally showed the level of emotion he'd bottled during the exchange with this Gamma Quadrant leader. "Damn!" Turning to the communications technician who handled the call, he set many other people into action. "Senior staff meeting now. Get Ensign Magenau up here, and get me patched through to Admiral Ross. Damn!"

* * *

Magenau could sense the tension in Ops well before the Station's command deck came into view as the turbolift rose into place. Every senior staff member of the Station was gathered around the central status console; the mix of silence and heated discussion all held the same high level of stress. Being a telepath only added one more layer to the thick atmosphere; and he had been ordered to step into it.

"Excuse me, Captain," he called down into the pit. "You called for me, sir?" With a quick glance up, Sisko motioned him down. "Please join us, Ensign. We need some of your legendary insights." Not waiting for the young man to move, he re-summarized for everyone present, "Because we have denied them passage through the wormhole, the Tashu'at have threatened to request the Dominion's assistance to get them through. We've informed Starfleet Command, and are waiting on their response."

Standing next to their newest arrival, Dax added, "In the meanwhile, we're monitoring Tashu'at transmissions, and watching for signs of Dominion fleet movements along the border."

"Very soon," Sisko boiled it all down, "we could be the site of a showdown over these seven little ships."

Seeing Magenau looking over the tables and their faces as he listened—all without expression, the ranking Bajoran officer attempted to use of their secret weapon. "So Ensign, the question is, presuming Starfleet's answer won't change and the Tashu'at do call for help, how will the Dominion respond?"

"They will come," he answered plainly and without any delay. Knowing both the speed and content of his message had caught his colleagues off guard, he explained, "At this point the Dominion can't lose: If we allow the Regatta to return through the wormhole, then it appears that the Dominion threat has forced us to do so; and they've won. If we don't, they can claim the moral high ground here, because they're interceding on behalf of this small, neutral party wronged by the large, uncaring Federation. They don't even have to succeed in forcing a return to be able to play hero successfully."

"And I'd guess that a shot at re-taking the Station, and the 'Tolesat' to boot, is mighty tempting!" Chief O'Brien personalized.

Sisko shook his head, "So letting the Tashu'at through the wormhole before it comes to any of that is our only way out?"

Dax's face wrinkled at the problems that solution would create. "That would be a direct violation of both a Federation Council decision and Admiral Ross' standing order!"

Less concerned with Federation chains of authority, Kira reminded them all that, "Discipline concerns aside, if we send them in with blessings of the Emissary, the Prophets will probably let them through. And when better for the Dominion to send someone, a ship, or even several ships back with them, as a 'security escort' or something? We can't let them re-establish that contact!"

Sisko cast a questioning look over to Magenau, whose composure seemed to have cracked a little at all the talk of battles, take-overs and his being a target in it all. But he kept silent, still taking it all in.

The doctor spoke up for the first time, showing his analytics extended beyond illness and injury. "Hold on a moment, aren't we forgetting the Tashu'at themselves? They've not been especially forthcoming with details about their culture or technology…"

His friend Miles nodded, "And their shields are largely impervious to our sensors. We have no way of knowing what information they have gathered and could report to the Dominion on the other side."

Worf grimaced at another inference. "Our permission and Dominion pressure may be irrelevant. We also have no idea of what the Tashu'at are capable of doing themselves to forcibly enter the wormhole."

Presuming his invitation to participate held, and needing to play some active part in the whirlwind around him, Magenau interjected, "I agree with Mr. Worf. Remember that the Tashu'at haven't been conquered by the Dominion; they simply share a non-aggression agreement. I find it hard to believe that the Founders simply find _these_ solids _so_ unremarkable that conquering them isn't necessary."

Eyes around the table turned toward him with worry as he continued to share, "Rather, I'd guess that the Tashu'at have somehow managed to keep themselves free from Dominion control in the Gamma Quadrant…"

Silence hung among the group momentarily, until their leader made the implication explicit for all. "And if they can keep the Dominion at bay on its own turf…"

* * *

**NOTES**

1. Vulcan for "My name is Magenau. It is time." Adapted from Saavik's lines to a regenerated Spock in _STIII: The Search for Spock_.

2. Jake's penchant for writing had made him a reporter for the Federation News Service by _Call to Arms_ (DS9 5.26).

3. When Weyoun 4 sought Federation help to deal with a party of renegade Jem'Hadar in _To the Death_ (DS9 4.23)


	4. Act Three

**STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE**

**To Have Loved, Lost and Won**

by Mirwalker

* * *

**ACT THREE**

Her three eyes seared through the video link, with a frustration her voice made no attempt to veil. "Captain Sisko, what would you have me do? Tear out our memories? Your doctor has already confirmed that your memory-wiping procedures will not work on our species.(1) Erase our ships' sensor records? I have already offered that in half a dozen petition hearings. All that I have left to do is give you my word that we will not provide the Dominion or anyone else with information."

Intent on keeping the situation from escalating beyond what his unpopular news had predictably already caused, Sisko willed his face and voice to indicate nothing but pleasant interest. "And the Federation's concern, Commodore, is that the information you likely possess is of such importance that I'm afraid your word alone is not enough."

Ensign Magenau stepped forward from among the Station officers who were still gathered when the Gamma Quadrant leader had called promptly as promised. "I can vouch for the sincerity of her words, Captain," he stated to his commanding officer with a matched calm confidence. "Her thoughts indicate a genuine intent to keep her promise. I sense no deception from her or any of the Tashu'at; as a group, they consider their silence a small price to pay in order to finally go home."

All eyes turned toward this unexpected addition to the conversation, with reactions ranging from astonishment to appreciation.

"Thank you, Ensign," Sisko dismissed, with no intended gratitude. "Unfortunately, Commodore, nothing he, you or I have said has convinced the Council that allowing you to return is advisable. Therefore, I must ask you to allow your Regatta to be escorted to Earth where it is safer, until such time as the hostilities between the Federation and the Dominion are resolved."

The last glint of hope so extinguished, the Commodore seemed to sink back into her seat; and her eyes dropped in sad resignation. "At last we are openly prisoners of your war." Just as quickly, she inhaled sharply, returned her trinocular gaze to the hairless headed human, and amended her assessment of the situation. "No, Benjamin Sisko, if the effects of your conflict with the Dominion are as unavoidable as you say, I can at least shape them in my favor."

Instantly, the Ops viewscreen went blank.

Before he could ask, his officers began to report.

"The energy readings from the Tashu'at ships have changed," narrated Dax from her station. "I think their shields are up. No other changes."

"Go to active scans," Sisko ordered, falling into easy step with the not entirely unexpected bad ending to the interaction. "At this point, they know we're watching; and we need any information we can get…"

Kira confirmed, "We're jamming all transmissions from them. Station defenses and all Ally ships are on stand-by."

"It's too late," shrugged the also unsurprised Betazoid. "They have already sent the request."

O'Brien looked up from where he was observing sensor data at Dax's station. "We haven't detected any transmissions from their ship; and we're jamming anything they can try. How can they have sent a message?"

"I'm not an engineer to explain how they did it, Chief. I only know that the mood of the Regatta has just changed from anger and action, to anxious anticipation. They've taken their step, and are biding time until the Dominion responds." He looked at the Captain, and let a little testiness slip into his voice. "You played your cards, and now they've played their-."

Sisko didn't wait for Magenau to finish, "In my office, Ensign." Whipping about, he further instructed, "Major, inform Starfleet Command, and notify me the instant anything changes."

He marched toward his office with such ferocity, several of his crew mumbled small prayers for the ensign who followed him with a not dissimilar air of anger about him.

* * *

The Captain whirled into the seat behind his desk, leaving Magenau to stand before it with no invitation to make himself comfortable. Instead, Sisko wasted no time in naming his displeasure. "Ensign, you may be new to Starfleet service in the field, and you may be the 'Tolesat;' but that does _not_ excuse your contradicting me or questioning Federation policy—particularly in front of others. What _were_ you thinking?"

Not showing any sign of intimidation, but knowing better than to speak out of turn or tone again, the junior officer asked, "May I speak freely, sir?"

"That doesn't seem to be a weakness of yours."

Permission granted, the young man actually leaned onto his superior's desk in open challenge. "What I was _thinking_, Captain, was that my insights as a telepath could provide an opportunity to break the stalemate you, the Council, the Tashu'at and the soon-to-be approaching Dominion task force have created here. Having lived the past few months in the crosshairs, I don't fancy sitting quietly in the center of this escalating crisis."

Coldly yet sharply, as only he could, Sisko whittled his way toward the bucket in which he intended to hand the ensign his tail. "I appreciate the sentiment, Ensign; de-escalating this situation is at the top of my list as well. But in doing so, I will _not_ be second-guessed by you or anyone else, nor will I challenge the Federation Council or allow you to do so."

Magenau's eyes narrowed as his voice chilled. "You're not always one to squabble over means to an end, Benjamin. I think Senator Vreenak would agree—if he were still with us…"(2)

Sisko's eyes opened wide before he could stop them. Buying time to gather himself, he shot back only, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

But the Betazoid already had made his point and gained his confirmation; satisfied, he elaborated casually. "Your little plot with Garak, Captain; the memory passed through your mind several times during our interviews. I'd guess that some part of the murder and cover-up still bothers you."

On his feet instinctually at the audacity of the sharing, the violation of his privacy and the guilt at having his sin known, Sisko almost hissed the counter-accusation, "You would eavesdrop on my thoughts and then use the memory to blackmail me into ignoring a decision by the Federation Council? If not as Starfleet officer, then at least as a Betazoid, I would think your conscience would give you some pause…"

Magenau pushed away from the desk in disgust. "Always with the 'Betazoid ethics'?! You know, we don't all grow up to be counselors…!" Spinning back to face his superior, he returned to a cooler logic. "As a native of an occupied planet _and_ as a Starfleet officer, I am using what opportunities present themselves to best protect and defend the people and principles I hold dear. And I see here the chance to overt an unnecessary bloodbath so that we can all get back to more important matters..."

"This is not about personal opinions or agenda, Mister; yours or mine."

Pulling himself to near attention again, Magenau persisted, "My _professional_ agenda, sir, is to assess and recommend courses of action regarding the war effort. In my _professional_ opinion, sir, this paranoia about the Tashu'at is a needless distraction and potential disaster. If you won't listen to the Regatta, why won't you listen to that?"

Seeing and sensing no apparent change in Sisko's attitude, his anger collapsed in on itself almost instantly. He dropped his shoulders, and sighed with disappointment. "Even you have high expectations of me, Captain. But I can't be your Tolesat savior if you won't be saved…"

Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked out.

Suddenly humbled by the young man's passion and final point, Sisko could only call after him half-heartedly. "Ensign! Yerian…" He too was suddenly disappointed, but not in the departed officer.

* * *

Two cups and a nearly empty carafe of coffee sat on the Wardroom table along with a few scattered PADDs. Jake and Yerian sat at its corner, gazing at the display on Jake's own computer.

Magenau smiled, "I'm impressed that you tracked this down. 'Yer and Watters': I'd forgotten the Academy paper printed the engagement announcement; Karen Farris arranged that somehow… " He sat back in his chair, almost cradling the tablet, before grinning up at Jake, "When you knew her, she played only bad cop to Tim's good, huh?"

Rolling his eyes and smirking, Jake almost recoiled at the memory. He didn't need to say more.

Half the article's title added more backstory into the nostalgia Jake's research had generated for this interview with the recent and acclaimed Academy graduate. "This engagement party was the one time she was publicly warm to us, in front of the Squad. But she did worship Tim, and would have done anything for him. They all would have…" he trailed off.

Jake agreed quickly, "And they did; and it got all of them killed."

The swift change in Magenau's expression made it clear he'd been too familiar, too frank. "I'm sorry, Yerian. I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did," he was corrected quickly, but not defensively. "And you're right… Everyone looked to him for strength, answers, purpose and hope. He always knew what _he_ had to do… It was one of the things I admired most about him, and one of the many things I tried to learn from him."

Magenau realized that he was tracing his hand along the edge of the static image, that he was falling into a reverie which had proven clearly fatal. He swallowed hard, and finished that story. "But in the end, he couldn't deliver. His charm blinded everyone to his faults; and his dedication to duty blinded him. He ran them to their graves, and left the rest of us to mourn them all."

The reporter didn't need to be a telepath to see how personally the follower before him had felt that leader's loss, not even two months before. How deeply he was feeling it still.

Again remembering where he was, Magenau sniffled and looked away from the happy faces on the screen, and the empathetic one at the table with him. Largely for his own sake, he tried to change the mood, smiling, "I remember a time… at the Academy: They had just finished a mid-term in the simulator; Karen and Tim were in rare form. The Squad hadn't done so well—at least not as well as he wanted. So, he was gently affirming the things well done, when she-"

He stopped so abruptly and sat up so stiffly, that Jake nearly jumped himself. "What? What's wrong?"

Magenau was no longer looking at him, but at the door. "In the corridor...," he half-explained, tapping his communicator. "Officer Rusto?"

When there was no response, Magenau stood and unholstered his phaser. "Wardroom to Security."

Nothing.

Jake looked back and forth between the door and the rigid officer.

"Wardroom to Ops."

Nothing.

Magenau leapt from stone still into a flurry of actions and orders. "Jake, order two open, large mugs of extra hot raktajino."

"You want a drink?!" he exclaimed, incredulous.

"Just do it," the ensign commanded. "I've only got one phaser; the coffee will give you a weapon." He moved to the door controls, as Jake obeyed mechanically. "Hurry! Someone's trying to decrypt the lock."

Without warning, Magenau fired his phaser at the pitcher and glasses on the table, disintegrating them.

Jake jumped back, nearly spilling his coffee.

As the beeping at the door grew faster, Magenau pushed past the civilian to the replicator and requested, "Computer, two kilograms of solid ultritium."(3)

This time, the computer buzzed negatively, unwilling to comply.

Not understanding any of these reactions, Jake asked, "What are you doing?!"

* * *

An alarm sounded immediately in front of Chief O'Brien. Without looking up, he called to the others on duty in Ops, with no small disbelief, "Major, we have weapons fire and an unauthorized replicator request for explosives in the Wardroom."

Dax met Kira's wide-eyed look, "Magenau and Jake are scheduled for an interview there."

"Captain," she called out as she tapped feverishly at the console before her. "Chief, beam them both out!"

"Can't," he reported even as he kept typing in hopes of proving himself wrong. "Looks like some kind of local dampening field has been activated in that section: no communication signals or transporter lock possible."

"Security to Wardroom immediately!" Kira called to the air as he headed for the turbolift. "Station-wide alert," she ordered as Sisko followed her, knowing he could ask for an explanation on en route to wherever she was headed in such a hurry.

* * *

From behind the freshly upended conference table in front of the windows, Jake could see Magenau set a chair on top of his own barricade closer to the replicator wall. The ensign intended to split up the targets in the room, and perhaps have a better angle of attack from his side vantage.

Just as Magenau was turning to wave Jake down, the computer panel pinged and the doors slid open. A small object sailed through and landed on the floor against the base of Jake's defenses, as he ducked behind the barrier.

Not watching that detail, Magenau pivoted, dropped to his knee and fired a few shots through the open doorway—wildly hoping to hit, or at least deter whoever was out there from taking any action.

Hearing a grunt and thud from the hallway, and sensing a change in the consciousness out there, the armed ensign moved swiftly but cautiously into the corridor to check the fallen figure.

Not sure what way the quick shots and footsteps had played out, Jake peeked over the table edge, and saw Magenau squatting over the prone form. Still balancing two mugs of hot coffee, his ear was caught by a clicking sound nearer him; and he looked down to see a crude bundle of metal and wire blinking rapidly on the floor before him.

"Mags!" he called, frozen in place. "Bomb!"

Sensing the fear even as his name was called, Magenau turned to catch his new friend's stunned expression as the Wardroom doors began shutting. Reaching them just too late, he beat on them, shouting, "Jake!"

The corridor rocked, the door sparked, and the lights went out as a loud bass note moved through the ensign, and threw him against the far wall.

* * *

**NOTES**

1. A medically-induced, amnesia first introduced in TNG in _Pen Pals_ (TNG 2.15). Used, attempted or explained as unusable in additional episodes such as _Who Watches the Watchers_ (TNG 3.4).

2. See _In the Pale Moonlight_ (DS9 6.19).

3 Introduced in _Manhunt_ (TNG 2.19), and making several appearances through DS9 and even _STIX: Insurrection_, this highly explosive and hard-to-detect material is normally mined.


	5. Act Four

**STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE**

**To Have Loved, Lost and Won**

by Mirwalker

* * *

**ACT FOUR**

Kira paced anxiously around the Infirmary waiting room as her Commanding Officer stood at one end with his arms crossed, and his hands marking time in beardstrokes.

"How is he?" Dax asked them both, as she quick-stepped in, with a worried look on her face and a PADD in her hand.

Seeing no acknowledgment or response from the worried father, the Station's Executive Officer summarized, "Critical, but stable. He's still in surgery."

"What is taking so long?" Sisko pondered irritably, shaking his arms out as he stalked to the doorway toward the interior rooms. Thinking better of barging back there, he pivoted and picked up Kira's patrol of the room's perimeter.

"Benjamin, Julian isn't going to rush it," Dax reassured. "Jake's in good hands." Perhaps to occupy him while those hands worked, she handed the more interested Kira the tablet and shared an update. "While we wait for the _good_ news, I have our initial report on the attack and explosion. The bomb was very primitive—that's probably why sensors didn't detect it. Fortunately, that also made it vulnerable to Jake's dousing it with raktajino; it shorted out much of the circuitry, and reduced the blast. That and the table probably saved Jake's life."

Kira read off the PADD with no small admiration in her voice, "Looks like Ensign Magenau took some creative steps of his own to let us know there was a problem: After we left Ops, six different telepaths on the station and in nearby ships reported a problem. It seems that the Ensign broadcast something of a telepathic 'distress signal' in addition to the replicator and weapons alarms."

Sisko took in the report without reaction; but did look up and beyond his officers into another bay, where a Bajoran nurse was running a scanner across Magenau's head. On either side of him, and in addition to the two just inside the main Infirmary doors, two new and especially unhappy-looking security guards stood close watch.

Sensing Sisko's gaze, and perhaps the discussion about him, Magenau looked directly at the Captain, with a very guilty look on his face, before his attention was called back by the nurse.

Dax continued the update, "Right now, Odo and Worf are interrogating Rusto and the other members of the security detail, trying to determine whether this was a Dominion operation and how they pulled it off. At least initially, this seems to be just Rusto; and I don't envy the interrogation he's getting." She needn't look at Kira to know the Major's face shared her extreme disappointment at the apparent, and unexplained, treason of the Bajoran officer.

Little concerned with justice at the moment, Sisko turned and gave a polite smile to both nonetheless. "Thanks, Old Man, Major. Keep me posted."

With another look down the hallway where his son was in another's hands, and not liking that he couldn't do more, he turned to the young man he could support directly. Trusting Julian, because he did and because he had to, he instead focused his energies where he could take action in the calm before the building storm.

Nodding thanks to the nurse as she left, he approached Magenau, who was stretching sore ribs and arms despite have just been told to go easy on them. He smiled at the determination to push through, a good sign. "Ensign, I understand I have you to thank for alerting us to this attack."

"You mean you have me to thank for the attack in the first place," he was corrected by an equally sore tone. "I should never have left him in the wardroom. I should have sensed the attack sooner. I'm sorry. I didn't… I mean, I thought that…"

He put his hand on Magenau's shoulder, demanding his attention. He hoped the physical bond might also let the telepath sense the depth of his gratitude for what he had done. "Yerian, you reacted quickly and creatively in response to a threat, and that quick thinking prevented you both from being killed outright. You did exactly what you were supposed to; you did your duty."

Rather than be comforted by that last reminder, he looked beaten by the professional complement.

Continuing to refocus the young man from what he had done well, to what he needed to do well, Sisko suggested warmly, "Now, while Dr Bashir finishes up with Jake, you get some rest, and then get back to work. We've detected lots of activity along the Cardassian border. We need you to finish up as quickly as possible, so we can move you out of here and put your information to use."

Magenau opened his mouth, as if to respond; but quickly dropped his eyes and nodded, dutifully. His instructions clear, he stood, donned his shirt with a slight grimace, and fell into tight formation with the four new security guards. Heading out, he was stopped by Dax, who have him a new communicator, through which Ops would be keeping a constant transport lock on him, just in case.

Seeing Magenau well, thanked, better protected and back to the business of righting the larger wrongs in this corner of galaxy, Sisko turned back toward the interior hallway, hoping there was news—good news about his most important care.

* * *

The eventual news of Jake's all-but-assured recovery was muted quickly by other problems gathering beyond the Station's walls, but well within its sensor network.

As he stepped off the turbolift, Kira announced the expected beep at her station, "Incoming message from Cardassia Prime…"

"Right on schedule," Sisko sighed and braced his feet on the deck. "On screen."

The viewscreen was instantly filled, edge to edge, with the piercing gaze and smug smile of the Dominion spokesVorta, who immediately began dispensing his unique form of diplomacy. "Captain Sisko and staff, so good to see you again. I only wish the circumstances were-"

Sisko cut him off quickly, not needing this on top of the day's other trials. "Weyoun, we're at war; so let's drop the pleasantries. You've gathered a helluva lot of ships along the border; and this neighborly call isn't an invitation to a picnic."

Charm turned to chill equally as quickly on the other end of the channel. "Very well. But don't try blaming the Dominion for this situation. Those ships and this conversation would not be necessary at all, if you weren't holding the Tashu'at Regatta hostage." Weyoun's expression softened from stern to sad, and he shook his head slightly, in disappointment at it all. "Your refusal to allow this neutral third-party to return home is just additional evidence of the moral bankruptcy of your Federation…"

Unable to contain her opinion any longer, Kira jumped in, "I really don't think either the Dominion or the Cardassians can lecture anyone on morality!"

Looking her over dismissively, Weyoun continued with just enough pause to reproach her before moving on. "Major, _do_ try to contain your excitement at seeing me again. Captain, you have no grounds on which to detain the Regatta. They're simply a few, small, homesick ships; they pose no danger to the mighty Federation." He actually tut'ed aloud as he frowned, "How truly sad that you feel so threatened by them."

Cheered by talking about himself, he reminded that, "Thankfully, unlike yourselves, the Dominion is committed to respecting those who have no part in our conflict. Therefore, I must insist that you allow the Tashu'at access to the wormhole so that they can return to their homes. And given your indifference to their concerns to date, I feel obliged to have several of our ships escort them through the wormhole… To ensure their safety against any further Federation inhospitality."

The Bajoran officer flinched, as if coiling to strike again; but Sisko beat her to it. "Weyoun, we have no intention of letting the Dominion use this situation as a pretense for passage to the Gamma Quadrant. We will take every necessary step to prevent any attempt to enter the wormhole."

Dropping all smarm and smile, Weyoun announced, "The Dominion escort is already on its way. On its arrival, you will permit them to accompany the Regatta through the wormhole. Or we will pave their way with the wreckage of your fleet."

Stepping forward, into the challenge, Sisko warned, "Careful the threats you make, Weyoun..

"They are not threats," the viewer snapped. "They are facts."

* * *

With only a slight bruise on his forehead to indicate what the day had already held for him, Ensign Yerian Magenau stood before Captain Sisko and Admiral Ross in a neatly pressed Starfleet uniform. Behind them, various other senior officers and civilian officials sat behind small, individually lit tables in the otherwise dark, large and empty space. Each was consulting their own computer tablet, following along with the focal junior officer as he spoke.

A three-dimensional map dissolved behind him as his presentation shifted slightly, and he turned to face the audience directly. "…Based on these facts, patterns and conclusions, you'll see that I have also repeated a series of strategic suggestions." He gestured toward their PADDs with his.

"For example: Actively encouraging conflict within the Cardassian and Dominion alliance, specifically between the Jem'Hadar and Cardassian troops, and between the Cardassian and Vorta leadership."

Beside him, a Cardassian soldier and a Jem'Hadar materialized, locked in a fierce hand-to-hand battle.

Paying them no more attention than a quick nod in their direction, he continued through his list of recommendations. "Expanding our own strategic thinking to the full three dimensions of space. To date, both sides have stuck largely to costly head-on fleet clashes; we should consider Spock's Observation and employ more approaches from off the Galactic Plane."(1)

The pair beside him vanished, and were replaced by miniature Federation starships attacking a horizontally-moving and proportionately-sized Dominion fleet from above, with tiny explosions demonstrating the effectiveness of this novel angle of attack.

"Utilizing Federation friendly shape-shifters such as Constable Odo, Chameloids and Allasomorphs to confuse, capture and control Founder-worshipping Jem'Hadar and Vorta." To his left, the Constable appeared and quickly morphed in a female Founder, before fading away entirely.(2)

"Using Dominion specializations against them. That is, creating situations that require Dominion units to operate outside their engineered purpose, where they are weakest. For example, Vorta in combat; Jem'Hadar in analytical thinking."

To his right, a Vorta appeared, uncomfortably holding a rifle; to his left, a Jem'Hadar fumbled with a tricorder.

"And, finally," Magenau concluded, the space around him again empty. "We could explore ways to expand and intensify the tensions recently observed between the Alpha and Gamma Quadrant Jem'Hadar.(3) And, I will again suggest somehow investigating Dominion history in the Gamma Quadrant for successful resistance used by other species—the Tashu'at, for example. Admiral Ross, I believe Starfleet Intelligence has already presented you with one such plan, Operation Skeleton Closet."

He stepped toward the assembly, to drive home his closing remarks. "At base, we are outnumbered, outgunned and, as a whole, our moral consistency makes us too predictable. We may do well on any particular day, in any particular situation; but I do not think Starfleet and our allies have adequately looked at the bigger picture and acted accordingly. Frankly, sirs, without a serious re-direction of thought and action, the two sides here will simply wear each other down to nothing—and we're on track to get there first."

His hands clasped before him, he glanced across the gathered faces, watching for some reaction as he let his message sink in. Seeing little response, and sensing nothing, he looked to where Ross and Sisko sat gravely, staring alternately at him and their PADDs.

Finally, the Admiral broke the silence. "Ensign, while I cannot say I like what I'm hearing, I can say that you have again done some brilliant work. You've given us a lot to think about." He stood briskly and reached for Magenau's hand. Shaking it firmly, he announced to the room, "We are very lucky to have you and your insights."

Showing no indication the praise was enjoyable, Magenau tried to leverage applause in order to add to the agenda, "Thank you, sir. If I could…"

But Ross continued, now addressing only the crowd. "Thank you all for joining us for the briefing. Please forward your reactions and questions to me by tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred. Computer, end secured holo-transmissions."

The various attendees, except for Ross and Sisko, dissolved into darkness as their holographic projections ended.

With a slap on the shoulder, Ross moved to make his own, if tangible, exit. "Good work again, Ensign. I do have questions about a couple of points you made; I'll get those to you with the others' reactions. With those clarifications, I'll forward your report on to Command." He gathered his PADDs from the table, and turned for the door. "Right now, I'm late for another briefing. Ben, Ensign, I'll talk to you soon."

As Magenau watched him go with clenched jaw, Sisko stepped out from behind the table with his own congratulations. "Well done, Mr. Magenau. You made some very keen observations and blunt suggestions. And Admiral Ross doesn't usually praise bad news. That report will-"

"…go nowhere, Captain," Magenau cut him off, curtly gathering his own materials. "Just like my earlier reports to the Admiralty. Just like my suggestions to you about the Tashu'at. Just like all my work. You listen, you like, you ignore."

Sisko furrowed his brow, at the absolute negativism from someone who'd just provided the Federation some optimism through another set of good strategic options. "Why do you say that?"

"Telepathy. History. Hunch. Take your pick."

"I don't follow. Your predictions of Benzar and Betazed, for example, are legends in the Fleet now. Of course they'll listen; everyone is listening to you."

Magenau gave him a hollow laugh, "Oh, I'm in the spotlight, for certain—but only as a performer. To most of Starfleet Command, I am a good publicity piece and a pocket amusement: 'Yerian, What'll they do today?' 'Ensign, What did Gul Damar have for breakfast?' You yourself noted how good my presence alone was for Station morale…"

"Do you know," he continued, frustration clearly building as recounted, "that the only productive thing my work has been used for so far is to reroute a few convoys, just in case I'm right. When I'm not telling them what they want to hear, I'm simply thanked and ignored." He shoved a final PADD into his case, "And worse yet, there are bigger issues here that everyone seems to be missing, Captain."

Not appreciating the spiraling talk or tone, Sisko reminded him back, "I think the Admiralty and I are well aware of the scale of this War's challenge to the Federation."

Bracing himself wearily on the table, the ensign snorted, "Frankly sir, I don't think you have the slightest idea." Seeing the Captain was taking aback by his bluntness, he unpacked his insult. "There's an even bigger, scarier picture than what I just painted in my briefing. It's a picture I have tried pointing out to Admiral Ross, Admiral Nechayev and many others. But they don't want to acknowledge it; they're too caught up in the minutiae of our immediate problems."

Sisko crossed his arms, leaned against the edge of his table, and invited skeptically, "Mr. Magenau if you have something to say, I'm listening."

A little surprised at Sisko's grudging openness, the analyst took quick advantage of the opportunity. He rummaged for and activated a PADD from his case, handing it to Sisko as he went back for the holo-remote. Speaking quickly, he poured information on this first willing ear in a long time. "Before you made them our allies, the Romulans planned to sit out the conflict until a clear victor was emerging, so that they could be sure to pick the winning side. Others are still doing exactly that: the Gorn, Tholians, Miradorn and Breen have signed non-aggression pacts with the Dominion;(4) the Ferengi are of course catering to everyone; and the Sheliak Corporate have refused to do either.(5) The Orion Syndicate is actually working for the Dominion in some areas.(6) …It's only a matter of time before one or more of these powers decides that the Federation is weak enough to take a piece."

"And we're monitoring all those possibilities," Sisko reminded calmly, looking over the accompanying text, "in addition to continuing diplomatic outreaches to those and many other races."(7)

"But we're forgetting one very important, interested and capable party, Captain: the Borg."

Sisko's eyes instantly shifted up from the screen in his hands, not sure he had heard the young man correctly, and certain he didn't want to.

Tapping his own tablet, Magenau resumed his visual aids as he picked up energy. "I realize that threat is a very personal one for you Captain; in fact, I'm counting on it. It's also meaningful to me as my practicum through the Academy was with Captain Shelby's Borg Task Force.(8) You don't get a much clearer hive psychology than them, and my job was to develop predictive profiles on the Collective…"

Perhaps realizing the quickening pace and passion of his talk, or perhaps sensing a renewed doubt in the Captain, he paused.

Coolly looking back down to the handheld, Sisko encouraged and inquired, "You have my attention, Ensign. I assume you also have details to back up these assertions?"

Almost grinning at the go-ahead, Magenau resumed, "Consider this, from our previous encounters with them, the Borg know that we are down ships: we took heavy losses at both Wolf 359 and their most recent attack on Earth through the Typhon Sector.(9) From those assimilations and from known contact with the _USS Voyager _in the Delta quadrant that we've recently learned about,(10) the Borg probably have a good idea that the Dominion conflict was coming if not already underway. And who knows if they've had contact with the Dominion in the Gamma Quadrant to confirm that?

"_Voyager's _reports confirm that they haven't forgotten about us, and we've seen that they are becoming more creative in their approaches to us. Where they first just attempted pure force, their attack on the _Enterprise _during their last Terran invasion used deceit and persuasion: They snuck aboard and attempted to convert, not assimilate, Commander Data.(11) With this new adaptation, what's to say the Queen isn't also capable of other non-direct strategies?"

"You think they're somehow covertly involved in our war with the Dominion?"

"No, sir; not exactly. But with this development in their activities, I think them perfectly capable of seeing the Dominion War as an opportunity to weaken the Alpha, Beta _and_ Gamma Quadrant powers without doing any work. Once we've all beaten one other senseless, they can spread into what's left and sweep up quickly. War R&D will have pushed our technological offerings ahead, making us all the more attractive; and there would be weaker post-war resistance."

Around Magenau, a human, Klingon, Romulan, Ferengi, Jem'Hadar and Vorta appeared and sequentially morphed into Borg drone versions of themselves.

"Winning against the Dominion shouldn't be the ultimate goal here, Captain," the only real and unaffected being before him narrated. "And beating one another up over the sights seen by seven neutral ships isn't any smarter. We _all_ need to be worried about the hungry vultures circling the battlefield, before resistance really does become futile."

* * *

**NOTES**

1. Spock's tactical reminder to Kirk when both _Enterprise_ and _Reliant_ are maneuvering sensor-blind in the Mutara Nebula (_STII: The Wrath of Khan_).

2. Martia, who helped Kirk and McCoy escape Rura Penthe (_STVI: The Undiscovered Country_), was Chameloid. Salia and her guardian in _The_ _Dauphin_ (TNG 2.10) were Allasomorphs.

3. Sisko and crew discovered and exploited this divide in _One Little Ship_ (DS9 6.14).

4. The growing lineup of non-aggression pacts is most notably mentioned in _A Call to Arms_ (DS9 5.26).

5. Given the significant challenges of any treaty work with them (_The Ensigns of Command_, TNG 3.02), this agreement-less non-participation seems logical.

6. O'Brien uncovered one part of this link in _Honor Among Thieves_ (DS9 6.15).

7. Even species of questionable strength and ethics, such as the Evora and Son'a, respectively (_STIX: Insurrection_).

8. Set up in 2366 to handle defensive planning (per _The Best of Both Worlds _Pt I, TNG 3.26) after the Enterprise-D's introduction to the Borg by Q (_Q Who_, TNG 2.16)

9. In 2367 at the Battle of Wolf 359 (_Best of Both Worlds_ Pt 2, TNG 4.1) and in 2373 (_STVIII: First Contact_).

10. Beginning in _Scorpion_ (VOY 3.26)—DS9's 5th season; and communicated when Voyager re-established contact with Starfleet (_Message in a Bottle_, VOY 4.14)

11. _STVIII: First Contact_.


	6. Act Five (Finale)

**STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE**

**To Have Loved, Lost and Won**

by Mirwalker

* * *

**ACT FIVE**

Admiral Ross was surprised, even disappointed, at his friend's apparent and sudden reluctance to take a stronger stance. "You asked for it, Ben. Here's our chance to take a more aggressive stand with the Dominion!"

"But this is just a defensive action," Sisko explained. "Their task force is moving on us; we're reacting, not taking any initiative here…"

"Not immediately, perhaps; but this is our chance to begin to push back hard. Elements of Second, Third, Fifth and Ninth Fleets are en route to you now; Eighth Fleet is a few hours behind them. We've also asked the Romulans to send a few extra Warbirds your way."

"I don't know," Sisko hemmed, "This is still just digging our heels in, not taking control of the war."

Ross leaned in and reminded him of the importance of any stand against the Dominion. "They've hit us pretty hard over the past few weeks. Now we try a few new things, even the score a little bit—this becomes more than a defense of this Station alone."

"But, any gains are going to be costly…" The Captain on the front line thought about his son, still under observation in the Infirmary, about the crew on the _Manchester_ who'd given their lives to ferry one ensign to the Station and the loyal Bajoran security who'd been injured protecting him, and about that young man, frustrated that his gifts weren't being used despite all their fanfare.

"Of course there will be costs; but that's the price of winning this war," the senior officer stated the obvious. "Weren't you the one, just days ago, complaining about how we shouldn't take this sitting down?! I'm a little concerned by this sudden lack of enthusiasm for re-taking control of the situation. Have you even been listening to yourself?"

Sisko's eyes shot up at Ross' confused disdain; and then he looked out beyond the walls of his office, to the bigger picture. He realized that it wasn't that he disagreed with what the Admiral was suggesting, it was that Ross wasn't thinking out of the box enough! "You're right; I haven't been listening. Not listening at all…"

* * *

The _Defiant_-class bridge flashed with Red Alert lighting as crewmembers crouched over or moved between stations with grim faces. Tensions were high; and as the cadets scrambled to understand and react to all the moving parts of the crisis situation, several spared moments to glance at the tall, man in the center chair.

He sat forward in the command seat, seemingly oblivious to the activity around and attention on him. With the slightest of smirks, Tim Watters adjusted the Red Squad emblem on his collar, and announced loudly, "Enough talk; this is getting old…" His body language and demeanor shifted instantly, from contemplation to absolute confidence; and he began barking instructions that the crew jumped to follow with a similarly renewed energy.

Tapping the console beside his chair, consulting its display, he spoke to a mix of on- and beyond the bridge staff waiting on his instructions, "Security, there are g-boot lockers near your present locations. Make use of them, and return to station. Ops, cut off public communication to that section of corridor, and call up environmental controls for that area. Helm, prepare to initiate high-speed, evasive maneuvers. Engineering, boost power to the structural integrity field and inertial dampeners."

In quick sequence, all stations reported in; and First Officer, Karen Farris, nodded their readiness.

"Very good," Watters approved. "Helm, give me z-axis dive and 180 hard-about on my mark 'two'—as much spin as you can. Ops, kill gravity and 'nert dampeners in that section on my mark 'one.' Security, prepare to move in; full phaser sweep on high stun." He paused as, waiting for just the right moment, before loosing the ready actions of Red Squad. "Attention all hands, brace for impact. Ops, mark 'one.' Helm, mark 'two.'"

He and the other bridge crew gripped their chairs and consoles as the bridge pitched, and the standing crew staggered against the effects of a full-speed, turning dive. Even with advance notice and bolstered support from the ship, they struggled to stay upright or in their seats. Anything, or anyone, not so prepared or protected would be reeling.

But Watters wasn't done. He barked, "Helm, level out. Security, move in! Ops, restore ship-normal conditions and keep that comm channel open."

Through the intercom, a security team shouted, "Go! Go!" Phaser fire followed, and muffled shouts and thuds echoed through the room. For a few breathless seconds, there was no sound at all; and the cadets glanced at their leader, wide-eyed.

Watters sat calmly on the front of the command chair, no sign of concern showing. If anything, he seemed to be counting…

Finally, the speakers announced, "Bridge, Security here. Situation secured. Targets are a little banged-up, sir, but alive and in custody."

With confirmation the plan had succeed, the bridge crew exhaled, and looked at one another with expressions of "I knew it would work…"

Watters clinched his fist, smiled broadly and spun in his chair, quickly and graciously acknowledging all their work. "Excellent work, Red Squad. Everyone did an exemplary job—as always. Now let's get this ship back in order, and deliver our prisoners to the nearest Starbase."

Despite his orders, all motion on the bridge stopped instantly. Watters sat in mid-smile. A congratulatory backslap paused, incomplete. Strobing and blinking lights halted. And faces around the room were locked in glows of celebration.

A few silent, still seconds were finally interrupted by a bland narration, "Academy Training simulation playback complete. Selected files playback complete. Do you wish to repeat the sequence again?"

Startled despite the familiar finale, Magenau stood before the viewscreen, and breathed in deeply. Wiping his cuff across his face, he stepped slowly around the helm station and circled the central dais to stand before the grinning Team leader. Though the projected eyes weren't real, and weren't looking at him within their recreated scenario, Magenau still took some comfort in having that familiar face beaming up at him. Hollow, but happy; forever separated, but still nearby, he reached out to add a physical sensation to the proximity.

"Do you wish to repeat the sequence again?" the computer prompted again, interrupting him.

Dropping his hand, and exhaling, he let go verbally and visually as well. "No. End program."

The face and smile before him dissolved, as did the other people, and then the chairs, railings walls and deck–leaving only the dull greys and black, and bright green and orange of the Cardassian holodeck.

Magenau took a deep breath and asked the room, "Don't I even get the basic courtesy of private time, Captain?" He turned to face Sisko, who stood just inside the doorway.

"Holosuite time is a precious commodity on this busy and battle-weary station, Ensign. If I'd know you were indulging in personal…."

Magenau scoffed, using his telepathic insights to share that, "You know very well from checking the logs that I have not used it for viewing personal files… much. Besides, this is the only time and place when I can find a little peace."

With no judgment in his voice, Sisko nonetheless corrected—or at least amended, the ensign's description of his refuge. "Yerian, I won't claim to know you as well as my son does, and I'm no telepath; but it doesn't seem to me that you're finding much rest here. These people, your friends, are gone; and staying here with them doesn't help you any now."

"You mean I should move on with my linear existence," Magenau paraphrased, no hint of the expected formality expected in addressing his superior officer.

Sisko chuckled at the unexpected, but apt, reference to his first encounter with the Prophets—the Wormhole Aliens;(1) it was easy to forget this young man had access to his reports, if not his actual memories. "I hadn't thought about it quite that way, but the advice worked for me. After Jennifer's death, I had a son to raise and a job to do here, just like you have obligations now and opportunities ahead…"

The Betazoid's somber openness was replaced instantly by the fire he also carried. "You just don't get it do you, Captain?!" He gestured to the empty room, "This _is_ all I have. My parents are probably dead. My friends at the Academy have all been siphoned off as fodder for the war effort. And my Imzadi got himself and thirty-five others killed trying to be the war hero. Family, friends, beloved – all taken from me in the name of this pointless, short-sighted war!"

Balancing empathy for the losses with irritation at the indulgent self-pity, Sisko offered calmly and sincerely, "Whether you believe it or not, I'm sorry for your losses, and for the pressures you're feeling. As someone who's also lost important people in service to Starfleet, as the Emissary, as a fellow officer. But that doesn't mean that you don't still have duty –to your uniform, to your fellow officers and citizens, and to the memory of those you love."

"You don't have to remind me of my duty, Captain," scolded Magenau. "If I am _ever_ in danger of forgetting, even for one second, there are thousands of minds on this station and the surrounding ships all reminding what's expected from me."

Rather than reacting in similar rage or resignation, Sisko slowly walked around the room, calmly sharing his insights on the young man's situation, as if leading him on a tour of his own life of late. "And yet, as much as you try to fulfill that solitary purpose, as much as you try to be everything everyone needs you to be, as much as your destiny draws you onward—it doesn't matter. The bureaucracy plods along; the cocktail party crowds only want to hear the same overused stories; your superiors roll you out as needed, and turn a deaf ear when you're not. Some love you; some hate you; but most—the important ones—don't pay you any real attention whatsoever. When it comes down to it, all the reported glory is actually pretty frustrating and lonely."

Not following Sisko's circuit around him, Magenau smiled with bittersweet recognition, "Are you sure you aren't a telepath?"

"No," Sisko laughed with him, not admitting he sometimes wishes for the instant insights that heritage could offer. "But I have logged a few escape hours in here myself. It's one of the few places I can be neither Emissary nor Captain—even escape the parent hat for a little while. But even here, I have all my fans, and fantasies …and faults, just like the Tolesat does. And to boot, being in here doesn't make the loss, or the Admirals, or the Dominion, or the Borg go away."

Their similar situations now more than named, Magenau vented his frustration, barraging this man who listened with frantic questions, whether or not he could answer them. "So what do you do, Captain, when you have nothing left? When your work is ignored and your warnings dismissed? When those you care about most are gone, and you bring only danger to those around you? When you live in constant fear for yourself? And when, despite all this, everyone still expects a miracle from you?"

With each query, he stepped closer to the now stationary and stoic-faced Captain; until finally he was nose-to-nose with the unreactive human. "When you're tired of being scared, scanning food and being chased by fan and foe alike?! What do _you_ do, Emissary, when you have nothing but pressure to live for?!"

With lightning speed, Sisko firmly took Magenau's face in his hands, matching the stunned man's energy, not in anger but in compassion and empowerment. "Even then… especially then… I still have my duty to myself and those around me. I just have to be more creative. And I have to listen to those special people who come into my path to remind me of that—to shed some light, and to give me some hope. Just like you, Tolesat Golav. Just like you…"

They remained locked for a long moment, as Sisko's resolve literally seemed to spill over into Magenau through their physical connection. Neither moved, neither blinked; perhaps they breathed. As the burden each carried bled out between them, released by being known and shared with this unique other, each felt some peace for the commiseration.

Sisko let go of the now-steady Magenau, who asked him plainly, as peer and student, "So what _do_ people like us do in a situation like this, Emissary? We have an angry alien fleet desperate to go home, orders not to let them, and a Dominion task force bearing down on us until we do."

Pleased at having turned around the ensign's mood, Sisko turned the question back to the analyst as well, "Even beyond your reports, you've proven to be pretty insightful and resourceful when needed. What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know," Magenau shrugged. "The analysis is one thing; but in the situation, I just react. I learned that from Tim: don't think, just do…"

"Sounds like he gave you some good advice," Sisko said honestly. Shame, Watters could have been a great officer… "So what do you do now?"

Magenau began pacing, thinking through the motion, "We have lots of competing needs and purposes; we need to find a way to weave them all together."

Sisko took his turn to be the center as his colleague circled, "I'm a good cook, but that's a tall order! How do we give everyone what they want? Get the Tashu'at home? Give Starfleet Command some assurance about Federation security? Get you some genuinely useful work?"

No longer thinking, just responding, as he'd been taught, Magenau voiced his gut reactions without filtering them, "Start with the easiest one, and build from there: let the Tashu'at go home. Then it's just a matter of making that fit into everyone else's goals too." He stopped, and glanced at Sisko, sensing or realizing suddenly, "But you know that already; why ask me?"

With a slightly guilty smile, Sisko admitted, "Because I don't listen enough; and you say some pretty damn good things. I do have a few ideas; but we need to work fast…"

* * *

With the Dominion fleet nearing their position, and allied reinforcements cutting it close to arrive in time, Ops was busy with staff making final preparations. Sisko, Kira, Dax and O'Brien huddled around the main status display, coordinating on- and off-station efforts.

His precious satchel hung over his shoulder, but in non-descript civilian cloths rather than any uniform, Magenau stepped off the turbolift and announced himself, "Captain, I came to…"

Silencing him with a gesture, Sisko decided, "Let's move up fighter groups 34 and 40 until they stabilize shields on that Warbird." He turned to Magenau with an annoyed look on his face, "Why are you still here, Ensign? You were supposed to be on that transport an hour ago!"

"I wanted to thank you again, and to say good-bye…"

Dax interrupted, "Captain, the Dominion first wave is approaching; the bulk of their force is not far behind."

Knowing enough to stay out of the way, Magenau stepped to the side, and let the veterans do their jobs.

"All ships and stations stand-by to engage," ordered Kira via comm channel. "The Tashu'at continue to move toward the wormhole," she informed her in-person colleagues.

Irritation growing on his face, Sisko ordered, "Dax, signal Worf. Have the _Defiant _intercept the lead Tashu'at ship as we discussed; no firing unless they actually attempt to enter the wormhole."

"Incoming message from the Dominion fleet."

"On screen," said Sisko, not moving from the status table, so that Weyoun could see the scope and pace of their ready response.

Appearing in battle headgear and with a busy Jem'Hadar crew in the background, the Vorta offered, "One last chance to be reasonable, Captain…"

"Weyoun…" Sisko began, before Dax interrupted.

"Neutrino levels rising; the wormhole is beginning to open!"

The _DS9_ officers could see their displays register the few shots the _Defiant_ fired across the bow of the lead Tashu'at ship, which did not react.

Suggesting he too had noted the ineffectual intervention, Weyoun continued his patronizing chat. "So disappointing. We did try to be civil, but… Have it your way, Captain." Glancing off-screen to the inevitably ready First, he committed his forces, "Commence attack!"

Tapping his console, Sisko responded as he had to, "_DS9_ to all units, move to engage!"

As their various screens indicated, and anyone with good eyes could tell out a porthole, the two fleets' formations shifted, and elements in each began moving toward the other.

In Ops, Dax shouted into the silence, "Energy build-up on every Tashu'at ship! Very odd readings. They're… firing?!"

* * *

Having arranged themselves into a tight formation between the Alpha Quadrant combatants, the cluster of Tashu'at ships collectively emitted a bright bubble of energy that rippled out and through the nearby fleets and the Station. Tossed slightly by its passage, the other ships now drifted in space, all visible engine indicators dark.

* * *

Knowing the wave passed by them, O'Brien was the first in Ops to step back to his station and it reported results. "Shields are down; all weapons off-line. Here and out in the fleets too!"

"Damaged?" asked Sisko, puzzled by the lack visible impact of the alien wave.

"No, sir; just off," Dax added to the analysis. "Wait! Another energy build-up from a Tashu'at ship."

"Get those shields back up!" Sisko shouted. "All hands brace for impact!"

The crew grabbed for a handhold, including Kira who turned for a better grip on her station. Glancing across Ops, her eyes widened and she shouted, "Tolesat!"

All eyes turned to see Magenau enveloped in an unfamiliar energy.

Closest to him, Sisko stepped forward intuitively, as if to help somehow. His eyes locked with the young man's for a split moment, before the barrier and the Betazoid vanished.

* * *

The wormhole swallowed up the Regatta and blinked out, leaving two stunned fleets sitting across from one another.

* * *

The shocked silence in Ops was shattered by a clamor from the still active viewscreen. Weyoun was shouting and gesturing wildly, presumably to his crew off-screen, "He was just here; what happened?" Turning toward his adversaries again, he exclaimed, "They stole my Jem'Hadar!"

That good news tempered that of his own missing crewmember. "No great loss, Weyoun; you'll make more. And, it looks like they got Ensign Magenau here."

"Really!" cooed the Vorta, before his veneer of judgmental disinterest settled in again. "Really, that's too bad, Captain. Please pass along our regrets to his next of kin."

With a flex of his jaws, managed to seethe out a sweet, "Weyoun, be thankful I can't get my hands on those ear-handles of yours."

Unflustered, the Vorta squinted and threatened back coldly, "And you be thankful our mission here was accomplished without our having to kill you all. This time…"

The viewscreen blinked off, and Sisko turned to his still shocked crew.

"The Dominion fleet is turning for home," Dax reported.

Angry on all accounts, Kira suggested, "Captain, _everyone's_ shields and weapons are still down… If we can hold the Dominion here a little longer, our reinforcements are unaffected and should arrive first!"

Sisko looked at her with a calm she could not imagine he could actually be feeling. "Hold them how, Major? Besides, we did what we needed to do here; let them go, and let's get started on the repairs and reports. Get those shields back up, and figure out what they hit us with."

With her and several other agape at his lack of passionate reaction, Sisko glanced at the spot where Magenau had last been, and headed up to his office.

* * *

"I am sorry, Admiral. The transmission must have been garbled; I was sure you'd ordered me to 'Send the Tashu'at home.' If only I'd known you said 'Tolesat'…" He smiled knowingly, as Ross nodded without further admonition. There would be time enough to hone the details in formal reports and inevitable investigations on how they all got away….

"This is a bigger risk than even I'd imagined, Ben," Ross said, as Sisko continued to look out the window toward the wormhole. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"As you said, all operations are risky, Admiral. Skeleton Closet is no different; and I trust him." He turned back to the screen, and to the here and now. "I'll keep you updated. Any word on our other operations?"

"No, but it's still too soon. Your confrontation did draw a lot of Dominion ships from other areas; so hopefully our strike teams had an easy time. Their successes will make the Council more understanding about the rest of this."

As Major Kira stormed into his office, Sisko wrapped up his check-in. "If anyone can make them listen, Admiral… Good luck. Sisko out." He looked up calmly at the fuming Bajoran, "What can I do for you, Major?"

Hands on her hips, she barely waited to be invited, "You mind filling me in on what just happened? The Regatta went into the wormhole with barely a move by us, after kidnapping Ensign Magenau; and you let the Dominion fleet walk away without a scratch? We lost out on every front, and you're behaving as if it's just another day on the Station!"

Sisko continued to stare back at her, with no reaction beyond a barely visible, but clearly impish twinkle in his eyes.

Here hands dropped to her sides, as the anger also drained away. "You wanted all this to happen. You planned this, didn't you?" She sat quickly, wanting to know the full story he hadn't shared.

"I had help," he confided to her questioning look, and handed her a PADD. "This whole situation is top secret, Major. So let me just assure you that everyone got what they wanted: The Tashu'at got to go home, with an observer from both sides to keep them honest, and Starfleet happy. The Dominion here isn't threatened by the Tolesat's insights anymore; and he's not threatened by them. And the Dominion fleet should be arriving home to find a few fewer production and storage facilities." He sat back in his chair with steepled fingers, satisfied in a way he had not felt in many days. "I'd say it worked out pretty well, considering…"

Grinning now, as she reviewed the list of clandestine attacks across the battlefront, she conceded, "Put that way, it sounds much better. But with this kind of planning and creativity, we should have kept you and Magenau working together. How will the loss of the Tolesat go over with Julian and the rest of the Federation?"

"Major, that young man had already given us everything he had; we've got plenty to work with. Besides, I doubt we've heard the last from him…"

* * *

One arm in a sling, a PADD in the other hand, and a few scratches on his face, Jake stared out the window from Promenade's upper level.

He'd been there for many minutes, thinking, questioning and composing, when a familiar hand on his shoulder pulled him from the contemplation.

"I can't believe he's gone—just like that," the son admitted solemnly to his father. They'd spoken about Jake's recovery, and about the public facts of the recent conflict and kidnapping; but neither had talked about how any of the adventure had affected them. Not ready to go there quiet yet, Jake continued with his feelings about others, "All that work; all he put up with, for what? To be kidnapped by Gamma Quadrant super-aliens?"

His son's sadness adding to his own, Sisko made to say something reassuring, to offer some comforting knowledge. But he could not. He was bound by duty and, as importantly, by his wish for another young man to have his chance to make a new start, and a difference, a long way away.

Unable to do more, he gestured to Jake's tablet and asked, "That's his story, huh? Are you going to print it?"

"No," decided Jake, looking at the all-but-finished piece he'd been wrapped up in since before his injuries. "Not immediately… Especially with him gone, and no end to the war in sight, I think the Federation still needs the image of the Tolesat as something bigger than a regular, real guy. We need the hope as much as he did."

"Maybe someday they'll be ready to listen to the truth…," the elder Sisko hoped for them both. For them all.

* * *

**NOTES**

1. _Emissary_ (DS9 1.1&2)

_AN: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this episode-in-prose, please leave a review. And check out my other Star Trek and other sharings!_


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